


Bucky Barnes is (not) a Bully

by Vixen13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst, Bullying, Dramedy, Humor, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Unreliable Narrator, everyone is some percentage of a jerk, idiots to lovers, miscommunication of crack-like proportions, smut only in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13
Summary: Peter grew up being bullied and continued to be even after becoming an adult and joining his best friend’s startup company. The new guy at work is just another bully in a long line of them. Sure, he may try to hide it behind smiles and nice words and invitations to lunch, but Peter can totally see through that. Bucky Barnes is, absolutely, positively, undeniably,nota bully.(Story arc is rated M and contains no sex, if that’s your thing. Bonus chapter 3 is nothing but smut, though, and causes the E rating.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker
Comments: 58
Kudos: 288





	1. The Bully

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekMom13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekMom13/gifts).



> I once had an idea for a story I liked. I told my good friend about it since I was considering how I could make it into an original piece. She then declared that it would fit perfectly for Bucky/Peter. Despite the fact that I was unaware that such a ship was even a Thing or my initial desire for an original piece, said friend proceeded to bug me for this WinterSpider idea for _seven solid months_. So, I wrote it as a surprise Xmas gift. Keeping the secret for three months while she continually pestered me about it was **difficult**. Thus,
> 
> I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY!
> 
> This grew into something way longer than I ever intended for it to be. I hope all you WinterSpider shippers like it. Thanks for dropping by!
> 
>  **Warning:** Mileage may vary on what people are capable of handling when it comes to certain subject matters. Though this is mostly played for humor (with some heavier parts), please be conscious of your own mental health limits and do not push yourself to continue if you feel negatively affected. Please make smart reading decisions. Thank you.

Peter Parker was, to put it lightly, used to bullies. He had spent most of his life being bullied and had learned all the tricks for how to mitigate his own abuse. The hard lesson in life was that nobody would come to save him. Instead, everyone always said, “It’ll get better.”

Having little social skills thanks to most people steering clear of the bully magnet Peter was, college did not prove to be “better,” but he held out hope for his adult life. People didn’t act like cliche, belligerent jocks in the workforce, surely. Even the worst of the worst outgrew that by adulthood. Right?

Wrong.

“Everyone, please welcome James Barnes to the team!” Harry said with a smile to a smattering of applause and murmurs of welcome.

“You can call me Bucky,” the guy said, his smile over-confident, hands shoved in his pockets, posture both tall and lazy in that way only star athletes could pull off.

 _Bucky._ What a stupid fucking name.

Peter stood at the back of the crowd and scowled at the oblivious Harry. They had been friends since middle school, one of Peter’s only friends, in fact. Harry didn’t get bullied. His family was rich, and he’d used that to his advantage. They’d only become friends because Harry decided he needed Peter, who hadn’t given a single shit about his wealth, to keep him grounded.

Which was why Harry had strong-armed Peter into working for Harry’s start-up business straight out of college graduation. It was doing surprisingly well for itself despite the fact that Harry hired a near-constant stream of douchebags. Peter was the only person in the company that wasn’t a complete dumbass, which was why he was the only data scientist there.

After some inane announcements about teamwork that Harry had totally read in a How-To guide, they were dismissed. Peter rushed back to his walled-off cubicle in the corner before anyone could catch him. It was the only cubicle with frosted glass all the way to the ceiling. Harry had insisted on an open office plan, but Peter had threatened to quit if he didn’t have a sanctuary away from all the judgemental looks from his peers.

“Pete, wait up!”

Peter cringed, his hand gripping harder at the handle of his glass door. He’d been so close to freedom. He set his features into something bland and turned to face Harry. Bucky was just behind his right shoulder, lazy smile still in place.

“Bucky, this is Peter. If you have any questions that nobody else can answer, Peter is your guy.”

The grinding of teeth echoed in Peter’s head but the poker face never slipped. “I’m your only data scientist,” Peter said, trying to hint that he didn’t have time to be babysitting.

Harry wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Peter was trying to say. He just purposefully ignored it. “Things can get pretty hectic around here, but since Peter’s just working with numbers, he’s the only person on the floor who can sit down and explain something.”

“I look forward to working with you,” Bucky said, offering a hand.

Peter didn’t want to shake the asshole’s hand, but he knew that not offering would make the bullying worse. So, he forced his hand up and into Bucky’s hard palm, doing his best not to wince at the too-strong grip. Showing weakness on the first meeting was like inviting trouble. Still, Bucky’s gaze rolled up and down Peter’s small, lanky frame, the big glasses, the button-up shirt, the frazzled hair. The handshake lingered too long.

The corner of Bucky’s lips quirked. _Fresh meat,_ he was probably thinking. Peter had always looked like an easy target.

~*~

Bucky Barnes was an absolute moron.

Over the next few weeks, he came to Peter about everything, right down to the most basic of skills. It baffled Peter how the man had even been hired in the first place. Despite having plenty of work to do as it was, he now had to pause at least a few times a day to answer Bucky’s empty-minded questions or go fix something on his computer that should have been simple.

One such day found him on his hands and knees under Bucky’s desk, reattaching a cord the bumbling oaf had somehow managed to knock loose. Instead of checking the obvious possible problems first, Bucky had made a beeline for Peter’s office and declared that his computer didn’t work. Why he hadn’t called helpdesk was a mystery, but Peter knew better than to ask. If he did, he’d start ranting, and ranting would lead to retaliation.

“Check it now,” Peter called from his position amid the dust bunnies and surge protectors.

“It works!”

 _Go fucking figure,_ Peter mouthed to himself with all the sarcastic vitriol he craved before schooling his features and crawling backwards to freedom.

“Thanks, Pete!” Bucky said with a wide grin from where he sat in his ergonomic office chair watching Peter crawl around on the dirty floor.

Peter offered a tight smile as he stood up and brushed himself off. He hated when people he wasn’t friends with called him by a nickname they hadn’t earned. Who did Bucky think he was? Other than a pain in Peter’s ass, that is…

“What are you doing?” asked a voice from behind Peter. He turned to find Sam frowning at them, eyes flicking back and forth.

“Uh, well, I was having connection problems—” Bucky sounded off and when Peter looked back, the man was obviously uncomfortable and not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Didn’t I already show you how to troubleshoot that?” Sam asked, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

Bucky cringed. “I forgot.”

“I see,” Peter muttered.

He’d suspected, of course. Bucky was too dumb to live if he was being truthful about everything he needed help with. No, it had all been some ploy to torment Peter just to pass the time. Bucky must have found it a real laugh riot to see Peter on hands and knees, wiggling his ass at the whole office.

“Well, I mean, I wasn’t sure if that was the issue, see,” Bucky rambled, trying to backpedal. That didn’t stop the small laugh from bubbling up through the words.

“You’ve got a job to do,” Sam said, about as unamused as Peter was.

Of course, Sam was less concerned about Peter getting pushed around than he was about their current projects. Typical. Peter spun on his toe and stormed off with gritted teeth. No way was he helping Bucky again. Or Sam, for that matter, though the man rarely spoke to Peter unless absolutely necessary.

Sometimes, Peter really hated his job. Then again, it wasn’t like anywhere else he could work would be much better. This was just what his life was like.

~*~

Denied his hobby of picking on Peter during work hours, Bucky grew more invasive on breaks. He was constantly sauntering over to Peter and loudly asking about his day before strongly hinting at wanting something from the vending machine. Peter barely managed to keep himself under control as he bought them drinks day after day.

Inevitably, Bucky’s behavior encouraged those that had previously forgotten all about Peter. They asked for a variety of snacks and sodas as well, and Peter realized he couldn’t keep this up. He started taking breaks in his cubicle or Harry’s office. It was all the peace he could manage.

Lunch hour wasn’t as bad. He usually headed down the street to a little cafe he liked. It wasn’t very loud and the food was decent. Most of his coworkers either ordered delivery or hit up the fast food places closer by. So the cafe was Peter’s private retreat. That was until Bucky fucking Barnes strutted into the small business with a merry jingle of the bell above the door and planted himself right behind Peter in line.

“Hmmm, anything good to eat here?” Bucky asked.

Peter took a deep, calming breath. “I usually get the daily special.”

“Oh, yeah? That sounds good. We should both get one. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company while we eat.” Bucky’s voice pitched with the hint he was dropping. Peter was very much used to that tactic. “Maybe we can get some dessert after that. The cheesecake looks amazing.”

Peter remembered the first time he’d been threatened to buy everyone food while they laughed and said they were all friends. A teacher had come up to them, rightly suspicious. One of the boys had pinched and twisted the skin of Peter’s back, daring him to say anything, forcing Peter to smile and nod. He’d felt sick at the time. Now he just felt resigned.

“Two daily specials and an order of cheesecake,” Peter told the lady behind the counter.

“Aw, you didn’t have to!” Bucky threw his heavy arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You’re such a good guy.” He flashed the cafe’s worker a charming smile. “Isn’t he great?”

The woman politely murmured something in return as she handed Peter his debit card and a number for his order. “We’ll have that right out.”

Peter’s cheeks burned with anger and shame. Surely the woman pitied Peter for being so weak, or perhaps just judged him for being unable to do anything about it. Bucky’s looming presence threatened to lock up his muscles, but he let his anger burn the old fear away. No need to obsess over his circumstances. He was used to it by now. This was life.

_Get used to it already._

Bucky all but dragged Peter away and to a table by the window, the one Peter hated because of the glare from the passing cars. He preferred the corner, not that Bucky asked his opinion. Instead, the big oaf was complaining about his treatment.

“Girls usually flirt with me when I hit them with that smile. _The smolder_ , ya know?”

Peter didn’t know. He grunted a noncommittal noise. He was just happy Bucky had stopped hanging all over him. He resisted the urge to brush off his clothes.

Bucky plopped down into a chair, rubbing the back of his neck as he frowned to himself, eyes dancing across the restaurant as if assessing it. Peter was instantly defensive. There was nothing wrong with his cafe! Why did Bucky have to be so rude?

“So is this where you disappear to during lunch every day? Why not eat in the office?”

Peter popped the top off his cream soda. It was in a glass bottle and had bits of pulp in it. He had yet to find another place that served this particular brand. There were several reasons he loved the cafe. “I don’t usually bring a lunch,” Peter said.

As expected, Bucky began to ramble. The questions thrown at Peter weren’t important, just a gateway for Bucky to hear himself talk. It didn’t matter how many times Peter shook his head and denied knowing anything about classic cars or how he didn’t have any sports team he preferred. A topic _he’d_ be invested in wasn’t even considered. He resigned himself to the mind-numbing drone of Bucky’s voice as he ate his meal.

Thirty painful minutes rolled by. His eyes hurt from squinting so much due to the unrelenting sunlight flashing off the mirrors of never-ending traffic. He begged the universe for release from this torture. Maybe a car could crash into the wall and take them out in a single blow. Alien abduction, maybe? He was desperate.

“This is amazing!” Bucky said, tearing into the cheesecake with gusto.

“I’m sure it is.” Peter sipped at his drink. It wasn’t like he’d be getting any dessert. That wasn’t how these things worked.

“Why didn’t you get one for yourself?” Bucky asked.

 _I’m not buying you two slices of dessert, you fatass,_ Peter seethed internally, but he kept his expression bland. “Too much sugar.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked disappointed. It made Peter irrationally happy that he was able to deny the man at least that much. For now.

“I guess we should head back soon—”

“Here!”

Peter looked down at the plate being shoved over in front of him. Half the butt end of the cheesecake slice sat on the plate, more crust than cheese. He stared at it, baffled, before looking up. Bucky wasn’t even paying attention to Peter’s confusion. He was too focused on the smiling cashier taking someone’s order.

“Did you not want anymore?” Peter asked.

“It’s not too much sugar if that’s all you eat, right?”

“Uh… I guess.” Peter frowned at Bucky’s profile. _You could at least look at me when you’re talking to me instead of staring at the poor cashier’s tits._

Peter picked up his fork, but it was hard to be grateful. Obviously, Bucky just didn’t like the crust and was using this as a way to look nice in front of the pretty cashier. _Well,_ Peter thought as he tried his first bite, _at least it tastes good._

“This was fun,” Bucky said before he finished off his drink.

_A free meal for you? I bet._

“We should do this again.”

 _Please, no._ “Sure.” Peter wanted to bite his own tongue in half, but he knew the consequences of outright refusing. Often, when he just casually agreed, his bullies tended to forget about whatever it was they were planning once something else came along to distract them.

Hopefully, Bucky would be the same way.

The trip back to the office was strained, as Bucky obviously preferred to speed walk despite the heavy cheesecake dessert. Peter was regretting the small piece he’d had in no time. Why couldn’t they move at a reasonable pace? Why did Bucky think people could still talk at this speed? To make matters worse, Bucky turned his nose up at the line for the elevators and declared that they would take the stairs. Peter was wheezing by the time they reached their floor.

“I needed that after being stuck in a chair all day!” Bucky said, a big grin on his face. “Maybe I should get a treadmill desk.”

What kind of masochist person would willingly inflict a treadmill desk onto themselves? “You do that.” Peter sucked in blessedly crisp, air-conditioned oxygen. Lunch hour was sacred and should _never_ be encroached upon by surprise cardio. Fucking Bucky Barnes… Peter slinked off to his cubicle, cringing at the feel of sweat dripping down his spine.

“See you later, Pete!” Bucky called, overly loud in the muffled noise of the office.

Peter winced and held his hand up in return. Ignoring Bucky would cause a scene, but Peter was too mad to even fake a smile, so he kept his back turned. He holed himself in his cubicle the rest of the day and refused to leave until it was confirmed that Bucky had clocked out.

That night, Peter went to bed early. It had been an exhausting day.

~*~

Bucky continued to follow Peter to lunch, talk nonstop about inane things, and receive a free meal. He didn’t always get dessert, but when he did, he would offer Peter the smallest possible amount. Every time, he’d look over at the cashier who he failed to chat with every day. Peter figured that Bucky had a crush and wasn’t used to be turned down.

The woman’s constant rejection of Bucky’s terrible flirting was at least some kind of recompense for the whole situation.

Co-workers began to notice Bucky’s absence at lunch and intercepted the two on their way out of the office one day. They grilled Bucky on where he’d been disappearing to and followed that up with asking Peter why he never hung out in the breakroom anymore. Peter scowled at the moochers, having been the same ones that kept demanding more and more from the vending machines courtesy of Peter’s wallet.

Anger flared high in his chest, but he beat it back down. What was the point in fighting? He’d gotten away with his cafe escape for far longer than he’d ever thought possible. It was inevitable for more and more people to realize he was the person to take advantage of.

“It’s no fun going out alone and leaving everyone behind!” Tim said.

_“Isn’t it great that you get to hang out with all my friends?” Flash’s grin spread wide and wicked over his face. The group around him laughed as they held Peter’s backpack, phone, and wallet hostage. Other students passed them by with averted eyes, nobody wanting to get involved. “You’ll never be lonely again, Parker.”_

“Just two guys?” Joe chuckled and punched Bucky in the arm. “What if people think you’re on a date?”

_“Gay?” Cassidy howled with laughter. “You been wantin’ to suck our dicks this whole time, Parker?” He slapped Flash on the arm as he wheezed and wiped away tears of laughter. “Pull your dick out, and see he what he does!”_

“Oh, fuck off.”

Peter jolted back to the present and looked up with round eyes. Bucky had said the words, but his face was relaxed and smiling. Joe and Tim wore awkward smiles, as if they also weren’t sure what to make of Bucky’s response.

“I see your mugs all day. Let me have a break sometime!” Bucky’s tone and posture invited them to join in on his joke, though they did so hesitantly. Before either could recover enough to respond, Bucky clapped his large hand on Peter’s shoulder and steered them towards the elevators. “Let’s get out of here before they ruin our lunch.”

“Rude, man,” Joe said but only received a backwards wave from Bucky.

Peter walked to the cafe in a bit of a daze, unsure of what happened. Bucky didn’t say anything — didn’t even look Peter’s direction. Maybe he’d been reminded by the conversation that Peter _was_ gay. It wasn’t hidden knowledge and most of the office knew. Harry was harsh when it came to his no-discrimination rule, so nobody ever said anything outright. It was always reserved to sidelong glances or casual comments such as Joe’s.

A far cry better than Peter’s school life, that was for sure.

Maybe Bucky had taken offense. Maybe he had friends or family who were gay. Or maybe his unusual silence was indicating that he really did feel uncomfortable but didn’t want to lose his job.

 _How long are you going to keep being seen with me just for a free meal ticket?_ Peter viciously thought but didn’t say.

The happy chime of the bell at their entrance was like Bucky’s cue to slip back into his usual carefree smile. He sped up and reached the counter first, happily flirting with the cashier as he ordered two daily specials and a tiramisu. The dessert was a specialty of the cafe and Peter loved it, though he wondered if he’d even get to have his customary tiny bite today.

Digging out his wallet, he thumbed at a $10 bill and considered slipping it to the cashier to ask for something to go without Bucky noticing. Harry didn’t approve of people eating food at their desks, but Peter was almost never on the phone, and he was much cleaner than the other cavemen that worked there.

“Keep the change,” Bucky said, with a giant smile and a wink.

Peter’s head shot up, eyes wide as he watched the woman cash out Bucky’s money and dump the rest into the tip jar. What just happened?

Bucky was already moving, heading to their usual table — which was not by the window. He had moved at some point, presumably to escape the glare, though Peter couldn’t put his finger on exactly when that happened. He slowly put away his wallet and followed, sitting down cautiously.

It was never good when the bullies were silent or paid for things. It meant something else was going on, or someone was watching their behavior. It meant they were afraid of getting in trouble and would inevitably turn that annoyance and frustration onto Peter when nobody was looking. But… Nobody was watching Bucky. Right?

Peter glanced around the cafe but couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. He turned back to Bucky, who was tapping away at his phone. “Everything alright?” Not that Peter cared, but it was best to know what was coming and prepare for it.

“Huh?” Bucky looked up, a slight furrow between his brows. “Yeah, I—” Something Peter couldn’t place flitted across Bucky’s face before that usual relaxed smile returned. “It’s unfair if you’re always the one paying, ya know. I’ve had enough paychecks by now to feel comfortable.”

“Good to know.” None of that answered Peter’s questions. Was Bucky feeling guilty, maybe? Well, it served him right. He could stand to pay for the meal every once in a while.

They ate in relative silence, which normally would have been nice to have a break from Bucky’s rambling, but now it felt oddly strange. Stupid Bucky making a peaceful lunch uncomfortable. What was he planning? Peter’s leg bounced with nervous energy. He didn’t like it when he couldn’t figure out what was coming next.

The tiramisu slid across the table and under Peter’s nose as he finished his meal. He looked up to see Bucky already shrugging lazily. “I think my stomach’s off, and I don’t want to get sick later at work, but it’s a crime to waste it. Eat as much as you can. I’ll poke at the rest.”

“Hope you feel better,” Peter automatically replied, too stunned to think of anything reasonable to say in response. Maybe his fears were unfounded. If Bucky wasn’t feeling good, then that explained all of his strange behavior throughout the day.

Well, the upside was Peter got to fully enjoy the dessert. He dug in with relish, savoring each bite. He wouldn’t say it was better than sex, but it _had_ been a long time since he’d gotten laid, so it was the next best thing.

With sadistic joy, Peter slid the small portion he left back across the table. He smiled like Bucky usually did when offering such a measly amount. It felt good. Bucky picked at the remains with less than his usual gusto for desserts. Perhaps he _was_ sick. Peter daydreamed about Bucky calling out of work tomorrow and leaving him in peace for lunch.

“We’re going out to the bar Saturday for the game.” Bucky looked up from his phone with a grin. “You should come!”

Peter’s good mood was obliterated in an instant. _So you were just bribing me into being dragged along with your friends?_ “I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“You won’t! I promise. They’ll love you.”

 _I bet. I’ll be paying for all their beer._ Peter’s wallet was already weeping. “I don’t know much about… sports.” He didn’t even know which sport it was Bucky was going to be watching. He barely paid attention to the man’s inane rambling. It was probably football. Bucky looked like the quintessential bro, and all bros watched football.

“Don’t worry about that. It’ll be great!” Bucky was leaning forward, eyes intent on Peter. He wasn’t taking no for an answer, and Peter knew better than to argue. It always ended badly. His neck and ears tingled as they flushed with barely controlled panic. He hated crowds.

Slumping down in his seat, Peter finished off his drink. “Sounds fun,” he muttered into the bottle. “Can’t wait to meet your friends.”

Bucky looked pleased with himself. Peter considered how much it would cost to flee the country.

~*~

The bar was loud, painfully so. The smell of greasy food and alcohol permeated the air almost enough to cover the smell of sweat and cologne from too many bodies packed into the place. People were shouting over the blaring TVs full of screaming fans and bellowing announcers. Peter was in hell.

Bucky had an arm around Peter’s shoulders so tight that they were forced to walk in tandem. One heavy fist sat over Peter’s pounding heart. The press of bodies surrounded them, bumping and jostling Peter repeatedly. Bucky shouted out names of the people at the circular table they stood before, as if there could be any kind of formal introduction amidst all the noise.

Peter supposed it didn’t matter. Bucky’s friends barely spared a glance to the new guy, more focused on whatever was happening on the TV. The helmets on the side of the screen clued Peter in that it was indeed football everyone was watching. People ran around the field and patrons booed, but he couldn’t even fathom what was going on.

“Let’s order some wings and another round!” Bucky yelled into Peter’s ear.

 _I guess I’m_ not _saving for that trip to Comic Con,_ Peter grumbled to himself. Fuck Bucky Barnes and all of his stupid friends.

Peter was pushed into a chair at the table claimed by strangers, his back to the wall and head too far under the TV to see it. He didn’t really care about the game, but it sure _felt_ rude to be stuck in the spot where it was hardest to watch. He glared at the back of Bucky’s head as the man flirted with the waitress and ordered what would likely be an obscene amount of food.

 _I’ll probably be entertainment as well during commercial breaks,_ he thought to himself as his fingers nervously plucked at the cloth napkin that wrapped up his utensils. Bullies hadn’t been that blatant since high school, but this was a prime location for it. Nobody would think twice if people leaned in too close in such a loud environment. Pushing or shoving would be unsurprising with inebriated emotions high and too little space to move.

It was too hot. Peter tugged at his collar, hoping for some cooler air. When was the last time a bully had left bruises on him? How long had they taken to heal?

“You look excited.”

Peter flinched and looked over to find Sam from work staring at him, his face somewhere between judgemental and bored. It was odd to see Sam in Bucky’s group. Peter could have sworn that they weren’t friends.

“I don’t usually go to bars,” Peter replied, his voice barely carrying over the din.

“I can see that.” Sam lifted his eyebrows as he took a swig from his glass.

 _Sure, make fun of the nerd for preferring better entertainment options._ Peter’s eyes skipped away to a TV in the distance, hoping that his face passed as interested in order to avoid further conversation. He was distracted by someone else at the table whose name he couldn’t remember. The guy was gigantic and blonde, bulked up enough to be a poster child for steroid abuse. Of course he was friends with someone like Bucky. They probably “hung out” at the gym together. What a cliche.

Bucky dropped into the free seat between Peter and Sam after making his rounds and getting regularly distracted by whatever was happening on the TV. A drink was slid in front of Peter. He had no idea what brand of beer it was, but it stank. Likely something cheap. He wasn’t big on beer in the first place, having never grown a taste for it considering all the bad memories attached. If pushed, he usually picked some kind of cider.

Peter stared at the bubbling, yellow piss with resignation. It was going to be a long night.

Getting to that proper level of “zone out until time moves faster” was tough, but Peter managed it. He picked at the wings set in front of him, munched on fries, and choked down awful beer until his head buzzed. His hearing was likely being damaged, but at least everything was becoming blessedly muffled.

Bucky bumped into, shook, and draped across Peter at random intervals. He shouted terrible puns about football to his friends, and they all howled at inside jokes. All Peter really gleaned from the process was that both Sam and Bucky were friends with Steroids Guy but didn’t appear to be friends with each other. There was also Brooding Guy across the table that didn’t talk much unless it was to insult the referees on screen. Next to him was Red Head who shoved her dinner knife into the crotch of every man that approached her.

A lot of men approached her.

After hours of agony and enough beer to numb Peter’s taste buds, the bar erupted into an absolute riot. Bucky jumped around and collided with Peter who had been mid-drink. Bucky managed to escape the worst of it, but Peter ended up with beer spilled from his chin to his lap. He stared at the mess on himself in mute acceptance.

 _Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. There’s no point in getting angry._ His whole face grew hot with the need to contain himself, hands shaking. Part of him really was numb to this sort of treatment by now. Another part of him was desperate to rage at his circumstances. What had he ever done to deserve this kind of treatment from everyone?

The roar of the bar continued around him — excitement, laughter, testosterone. Were they laughing at him? Probably. There he was, just sitting in a puddle of beer like a loser, unable to even grab a napkin to dry himself off.

_You look like you just pissed yourself, Puny Parker!_

Peter clenched his eyes closed and shook his head, trying to knock the voices of his past away. Flash wasn’t here. That wasn’t his voice. It was just a shitty memory.

Someone grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked him up, but he jerked away, stumbling into the wall behind him. Lukewarm beer trickled down the inside of his legs. He looked up to see Bucky’s face eyeing the damage, already laughing. Of course he was.

“My bad! My bad!” Bucky yelled. He said something else, but it was lost to the cacophony of voices in and out of Peter’s head.

“You’re drunk,” Peter muttered to himself. He should leave while he had any dignity left and before the rest of the table turned to him for the after-game entertainment.

Peter dove into the fray, squeezing past the suffocating press of bodies in an effort to make it to the door. Someone was shouting his name. Was it Bucky? Well, Peter hadn’t paid for all the beer yet, so he imagined that the man would be angry at his escape. He would be punished later. That was just how these things went, but at the moment, he really didn’t care. He just needed to get out.

Someone hip-checked him into a wall, people surrounded him, making it impossible to get around them. He was forced to stand there and hope for an exit. His past weighed down on him again. He remembered being cornered, seeing the escape but being unable to reach it, constantly shoved again and again into the wall by angry peers.

“Peter!”

He looked over at the sound of Bucky’s voice, but it wasn’t Bucky’s face he saw. In the distance, framed by a large shoulder and the wall, was Sam. He was standing up, arms crossed, frowning and shaking his head while making eye-contact. His dislike of Peter grew by the day, it seemed.

“Pay for your own fucking meal,” Peter spat, glaring at Sam’s dark look. His bravery only held due to the distance and the buzz he had going, but it felt nice. Someone in front of Peter shifted, allowing him to push through and dive for the door, making his way to freedom.

And the cool autumn air. The chill sank into his wet clothes immediately and set his teeth to chattering. He folded his arms and hunched over as he hurried down the sidewalk. It would be marginally warmer once he made it on the metro. He just wanted to go home, shower, sleep, and forget this night ever happened.

His ears rang and itched as they tried to recover. He dug a finger into one and winced. That had been worse than the time he’d been forced to go to karaoke and listen to people who were not his friends scream into a microphone for hours. They’d even made him sing — all love songs by women while everyone heckled him.

Tears pricked at his eyes while he took the stairs down to the nearest station. He wondered what it would feel like to have real friends for once in his life.

~*~

Thankfully, Peter had the weekend to recover (and by recover, he meant obsessively playing MMOs as a distraction). He hoped that Bucky took the weekend to calm down. He’d probably ordered far more than he would have had he intended to pay for everything, but he’d been left with the bill. Peter’s stomach was in knots by Monday morning, fearing what retribution would be had. He had even packed a lunch of some slim jims and a protein shake, resigned to the possibility of hiding in his office all day.

Speaking of his office, he opened the door carefully, prepared for there to be some kind of “prank” set up that everyone could pass off as good fun, though Peter would know better. Nothing happened. He checked his chair but found no stink bomb, air horn, or rotten food had been prepared for him to sit on. He collapsed into his office chair with a deep sigh of relief.

Maybe he could spend his lunch hour convincing Harry to let him work from home.

“Knock, knock!” a bright, cheery voice accompanied the sound. Peter jumped, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. His door opened to reveal none other than Bucky Barnes, smiling so wide it looked painful.

“Hey,” Peter choked out. He felt himself shrinking into his chair and hated himself for it, but in his defense, Bucky’s face looked downright terrifying.

“You feeling better? You sure shot out of there Friday night.”

Peter gulped. “Y-yeah. I guess the beer really got to me.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Silence sat heavy between them. Peter was lying. Bucky was lying. The truth screamed into the words unsaid, but neither of them relented. Peter could feel himself sweating.

“We still on for lunch today?” Bucky asked, his fists clenching.

Peter took a steadying breath and forced and unconvincing smile to his face. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Some of the tension left Bucky’s shoulders as he offered Peter a weird thumbs up as a response. Bucky turned, stopped, whipped back around, opened his mouth, clacked it shut, took a deep breath, and paused again. Peter stared, wide-eyed, as he waited for whatever it was that Bucky wanted to yell about but kept reconsidering. Thankfully, their building full of office workers would keep the worst of Bucky’s tirade at bay.

“This Saturday we’re heading out to the paintball field.” Bucky leaned against the doorframe as if he was relaxed, but Peter personally knew how sharp and painful the thin glass frame was. “Wanna be on my team?”

Ah. There it was. The punishment for leaving the bar. It was almost a relief to know what it was and be able to prepare himself for it. At least mentally. He was a terrible shot, he knew that from his poor attempts at the arcades’ zombie hunter games. This would be a wonderful opportunity for Bucky to show off “how much better and stronger” he was by humiliating Peter and leaving him with socially acceptable bruising.

It also meant that Peter just had to play nice until Saturday was over. After that, Bucky would feel better and let the bar incident go. Probably. Hopefully.

Peter offered a wobbly smile. “Sounds fun.”

Bucky looked _actually_ happy for the first time since he’d opened Peter’s door. “Great! I can’t wait.”

“Me either.” Peter watched as Bucky left with a wave. Once the door swung shut, he dropped his forehead down onto the desk with a groan. “I’m never going to have a peaceful weekend again.”

~*~

In 1973, an inventor named Henry Smolinski took the wings and tail from a Cessna aircraft and strapped them to a Ford Pinto to create a flying car. It worked. However, during the test flight, the car rattled free of its additional parts and plummeted to the earth, killing both the inventor and his passenger. In the history of bad inventions, Smolinski’s flying car was, in Peter’s opinion, at the top of the list.

Paintball was just below that.

First of all, there were the outfits. He was covered in a hot, baggy onesie that started a stained white and would soon show every hit he received. Also, in the bright fall sunshine, the color stood out like a glowing beacon amid the hay bales and festively painted lean-tos. Over his face was a full mask that was not fun to breathe through but necessary to prevent damage. His glasses dug into his nose in the worst of ways with it on. Strapped around his waist was an awkward holder with a canister full of extra paintballs that hampered his movement.

Second, Peter was on Bucky’s team with the brooding guy and the redhead from the bar — Clint and Natasha. They were all overly serious about the game and talked over Peter’s head about strategy. The moment the game started, they took off, and Peter was left to flounder.

Third, the team they were against contained Sam, who looked ready to hunt _Peter_ down rather than the flag. Sam’s team also included steroid’s poster child, who was apparently named Steve, and a new guy named Tony who had walked in wearing an actual Gucci suit. The guy stank of money, and Peter was baffled as to how they were all friends.

Lastly, and by far the worst part about paintball, was that getting hit _hurt like hell._

Peter curled up behind a fake tree and clutched the gun to his chest, breathing hard behind his mask. Multicolored blobs whizzed by him at random intervals. The group was used to playing three on three. Peter had assumed that the other team would be mad that Bucky had an extra team member. Not so. Peter was as useless as the 2-D tree he was leaning against, and they all knew it.

“You shot me in the ass!” Tony shouted in the distance, his magnanimous tone easy to pick out amid the others.

“That’s for staring at mine,” Natasha called back before rapid-fire shots filled the air.

That woman was a cold-hearted psychopath, and Peter was 100% terrified of her.

Someone landed to Peter’s left with a thump, and he was ashamed to say that he screamed. Bucky rolled over and hid behind the tree next to Peter’s. He’d apparently jumped down from atop the stacked hay bales. Peter had assumed that the bales were there just to take cover, but the others scrambled over them like they were training for parkour.

 _Why are all of you taking this so seriously?!_ Peter raged in his head.

“Having fun?” Bucky asked, a smile in his voice.

“Loads,” Peter grumbled. Thankfully his mask muffled most of his angry tone. Either that or Bucky simply ignored it.

“Steve found one of his team’s flags and is guarding it, but I found another.” He nodded his head in a vague direction. “Four o’clock.”

As if Peter had _any_ idea what direction that was. Who talked like that outside of movies? “One of their flags?”

“Yeah. The red ones.”

“Right.” Peter had considered retaining the information about how the game worked, but the moment paint started flying, the details flew out the window. He pointed at his still throbbing leg. “I was shot.”

Bucky laughed. “That’s why we’re playing our own style. You gotta have three different colors before you’re out.”

That explained the rainbow collection of paintballs that had been poured into his gun. He was pretty sure his team had blue flags. They were hidden somewhere. Collecting the opposing team’s flags would end the game. Or all of one team being removed from the game. With how well everyone was playing, Peter didn’t think that would happen anytime soon.

“How many flags are there?” Peter asked.

“Three for each team.” Bucky peeked around his tree. “We’ll need to corner Tony eventually.”

“Why? Isn’t Natasha shooting him?” He could still hear Tony shouting in the distance.

“Yeah, but she’s only using orange paint.” Bucky laughed again and took off, shouting over his shoulder, “Go grab that flag!”

“What flag?” Peter asked, but it was useless. Bucky was already gone. “And why me?” Peter groaned. He didn’t even want to _be_ here.

He did his best to envision a clock, but he didn’t know what direction to face in order to find the four. Frustrated, he took off in the direction of the least amount of paintballs flying through the air. Heavy thumps smacked along the lean-to he was heading towards, so he flung himself backwards into the dirt on instinct. Cursing, he crawled to relative safety behind a hay bale. Looking around, he found no hint of red or blue.

“This is a stupid game. I hate this. Fuck everyone.” Peter smacked his head back against the hay bale and glared up at the happy blue sky.

“Is that so?”

Peter shrieked and launched to his feet, looking around for the voice but seeing nothing. Slowly, achingly, like he was stuck in a horror film, he tilted his head back to see Sam laying atop the hay bale next to Peter’s, gun at the ready. Peter swallowed hard.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hey, Peter.” Sam’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “It really sucks that Nat only gave me green paint.”

“You don’t want to do this.” Peter backed up slowly, but there was nowhere to go. If he walked out from behind his shelter, he’d still end up getting shot by someone. Though, at least it wouldn’t be at such close range. It hurt more close up.

“Oh, I think I _do_ want to do this.”

Of course he did. Bullies always did. Peter turned tail and ran as hard as he could, which was admittedly not that hard. He was a desk worker! _Rat-tat-tat_ echoed loud in his ears and stinging hits splattered up his spine, making him hiss. He kept going, determined not to go down and act as squirming, crying entertainment at the very least.

He skidded around the corner of a lean-to, breathing hard, and came face to face with the hollow end of a gun. Steve’s mask-muffled laugh sounded discordantly happy.

“Aren’t you just unlucky?” Steve asked with great humor before shooting Peter in the chest.

~*~

Peter frowned at his bare chest in the bathroom mirror. He had a big, round, red and purple bruise dead center of his ribcage. Steve’s shot was thankfully a different color, meaning Peter was able to trudge his way back to the holding pen and wait for the game to end. He had nursed his aching body as he waited in the bright sun and annoying bugs for what felt like an impossibly long game.

Turning, Peter assessed his back and the line of bruises Sam’s gun had made. At work, Sam was usually just dismissive of Peter and didn’t act as if he held any favor for Bucky. Apparently, Peter was wrong. Sam was an asshole. Even after the game ended, Sam had pointedly ignored Peter to the point that Natasha had raised an eyebrow at it.

The day ended with Tony taking everyone out for drinks, which was thankfully at a place not nearly as loud or crowded as game night had been. Peter sat at the bar sipping at whatever he could choke down and wishing to be anywhere else. The only upside was that the bartender seemed determined to put all charges on Tony’s tab, claiming the man could afford it. So Peter only had to pay for his own shitty alcohol and a plate of bland fries.

Listening to Bucky take hold of the cheap karaoke mic and sing Journey had topped the night off with a shit cherry on the trash sundae. Just thinking about it made Peter groan in agony.

Dropping his pants, Peter inspected the bruise on his leg which was already turning green around the edges. It had been a long time since he’d been physically hurt with such obvious marks. He supposed paintball was the most clever way he’d ever had it happen to him. Even now, as an adult, he couldn’t blatantly complain to someone about suffering abuse when Tony was wandering around somewhere with a purple-spotted ass.

Peter sighed and turned on the water for the shower. What had he ever done to deserve any of this? Well, at least his punishment was over.

As he shampooed away, Peter considered Tony. Perhaps the man was also undergoing some form of punishment. After all, he’d paid for all the food and drink. Maybe they forced Tony to stick around because he had money. Then again, Tony had acted like a real jerk at the bar, going so far as to hit on everything that moved, Peter included. And, once properly inebriated, a particularly curvy lampshade. Natasha might have had a more valid reason to make Tony suffer.

Ugh. Bucky’s friends were absolutely _the worst._ Though that made sense, considering Bucky himself. Peter sighed as he let the hot water rain down on him and relax his aching body.

It must be fun for them, though, to have a group of friends to spend time with, even if their idea of fun was nonsensical. Peter had always wanted that kind of friend group. Obviously, he’d prefer people that shared his interests. They could binge bad movies and MST3k them while throwing popcorn. They could all go to a convention in matching cosplay. Oh! Board game nights. Peter had so many unique board games that he never got a chance to play.

Of course, he was shit at making friends. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were someone he could meet that already had a close friend group? Then Peter could just transition in. It would be fun and less stressful that way. Ah… The dream.

Once out of the shower, he went about his nightly routine. He stopped by the terrarium in his room and smiled at the contents. Miles was the best pet, though nobody appreciated how cute he was, despite being the prettiest Mexican Red-Knee tarantula in the world. Peter scooped the spider into his palm, grinning as Miles languidly crawled along Peter’s forearm.

Peter had always liked tarantulas, being one of the few babies he could keep in apartment complexes that refused pets and had a policy against fish tanks. Aunt May had never liked spiders much, but she’d been a good sport about it. When Peter’s classmates had crashed his place for the first time, seeing the tank had sent them into a frenzy. Gwen, his old tarantula, should have lived a good thirty years. She hadn’t survived the “party” and the rough manhandling. Peter had learned the hard way to hide his tarantulas when having guests over.

“Don’t worry, Miles. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He ran a finger down Miles’s prickly fur and felt calmer than he had all day. Exhaustion hit him like a truck just then, so he placed Miles back into his optimal environment tank before getting ready for bed.

Peter was prepared to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow. However, his phone indicator light was blinking. He frowned. Only Harry ever texted Peter, maybe the occasional check-in from Aunt May, but she would have been in bed by this hour. If Harry was up this late demanding that Peter come in early to save his ass… Peter grumbled as he snatched up the phone while falling back into the comforter, legs splayed.

“Unknown number?” Peter mumbled. Spam calls were normal, but he usually didn’t get texts from them. He wondered if someone had typed in a number wrong.

 **+** Hey Pete!

 **+** I saw ur # on pb form

 **+** LQQK at dis nut shot lol

From there proceeded a line of three gifs showing paintball players getting shot in the balls. Peter stared at the ceiling in pain and prayed that the earth would swallow him whole. Bucky fucking Barnes had Peter’s phone number. Peter considered where he could move that wouldn’t have a data signal. Siberia? The moon? Mars? He could be happy joining the colonizing team on Mars.

Peter’s phone pinged, mocking his fantasies. No, Peter was stuck right where he was, trapped into the obligation to text Bucky back as if the mind-numbing gifs and memes were actually funny. Surely he was in the deepest circle of hell.

~*~

“C’mon, Harry,” Peter groaned, the side of his face smooshed to the top of Harry’s desk, arms dangling limply down the side. “I need some kind of decent social interaction before I lose more brain cells.”

“I’ve got nothing but business dinners for the next two months,” Harry said, not sounding at all bothered about that. He liked working non-stop and rubbing elbows with the rich.

“Lies. I know you have dinner planned with your dad next week.”

“That’s still business. I’ve yet to see him talk about anything else.”

 _Like father like son,_ Peter thought but didn’t say. He gazed at the water bottle that sat in front of his nose. Escaping to Harry’s office for lunch was either boring or just never-ending work-related talk so it felt like he never got a break. Still, with Bucky texting Peter constantly the past two weeks _and_ going to lunch, Peter needed a reprieve. He made up some excuse about needing to discuss data with Harry and made his escape. At least for today.

“We don’t have to hang out a long time,” Peter pressed. “You gotta have a break sometime, ya know.”

“Okay, mom.”

Peter stuck out his tongue in response.

“I think you’re complaining too much about a certain someone trying to befriend you.”

Peter scrunched his nose up. Bucky was absolutely _not_ trying to befriend Peter, but of course Harry couldn’t see past the facade. _“What’s wrong with going to the bar?”_ Harry could be so dense.

“I get that he isn’t the intellectual conversation that you crave,” Harry said with a chuckle, “but you could do something else. Go to a movie or something.”

 _Oh, great idea! I totally want to pay for tickets and food for some awful movie I have no interest in_. “I’m pretty sure our movie tastes don’t line up.”

“Now you’re just being negative.”

Peter rolled his eyes while letting out a long-suffering sigh.

A knock sounded at the door. Peter reluctantly sat up in his chair so that he didn’t look too ridiculous. When Harry called the person in, Peter almost whined. Of course it was Bucky. Of course it was.

“Hey! Hope you’re not overworking our data scientist.” Bucky grinned as he walked over and handed Harry a stack of papers.

“Ha! He’d get bored without something to do.” Harry snorted.

Peter offered a bland, mostly exhausted smile in return. Was lunch over already? He really didn’t want to look at what he knew would be the slew of terrible memes and videos that a bored Bucky would have sent during that time.

“In fact,” Harry continued, “he was just complaining about being bored after work.”

Peter stiffened. The dirty, betraying bastard. He tried to shoot Harry a look but was completely ignored.

“What movie was it that you were wanting to see?” Harry didn’t wait on a response. “You could always go see it alone. I know you hate it, though.”

That was not true. Peter was used to doing things alone. He didn’t have the luxury of liking it or not. “No, that’s—”

“The new Fast and Furious movie?” Bucky’s eyes were lit up, and if he’d had a tail, it would have been wagging. “Oh man, I’ve been wanting to go, but everyone I know is over them already. How can you be over them, right?”

“See? Perfect. You two can go.” Harry smiled like he’d done a good deed. Peter was going to leave coal all over Harry’s office for Christmas.

“Oh! I’ll look up movie times and text you.” Bucky was already pulling out his phone. It was no surprise that he was over the moon about it. He was getting a free movie and all the over-priced food that Peter could carry.

“Great! Now file out, you two, I have calls to make.”

Bucky left with a bounce in his step. Peter made sure to glare hard enough to really test whether or not he had an ability for pyrokinesis. Harry offered a thumbs up in return. Why were they friends again? Harry was the worst.

“There’s one playing at seven not far from here,” Bucky said as they walked out onto the main office floor. “That works, yeah? It won’t get too late since there’s work tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Peter forced himself to say. If only he were brave enough to make up excuses until that awful, awful movie left theaters. He knew better, though. The more he made excuses, the more bullies didn’t listen to them. It meant not being able to get away for actual emergencies. Plus, he would end up owing the bully a “favor” if he managed to skip out.

If that meant another round of paintball, Peter would much rather suffer through terrible plot and a bunch of cars he didn’t care about.

“I’ll come grab you after work,” Bucky said, slapping Peter a little too hard on his shoulder, causing him to stumble. Bucky didn’t notice, just headed off to his desk.

“Great,” Peter said with a tight smile that did nothing to hide his feelings on the matter. Sam was watching him from a distance with an unimpressed look. Fucking Sam. Peter still had faded green bruises on his back. Fuck. Sam.

Peter trudged back to his office in despair, hoping to get absorbed in his work and ignore the inevitable. Which turned out to be a terrible idea since that made time move all the faster. The last of the work day flew by, and before Peter was prepared, Bucky was standing in his doorway looking overly smug.

“Ready to go?”

“Can’t wait,” Peter replied in his best fake-happy tone, though even that sounded lacking.

On the walk to the theater, Bucky did his best to discuss the rest of the franchise. Peter, having never watched more than thirty minutes collectively, struggled to keep up. He tried to play it off as bad memory, which severely backfired. Bucky launched into a detailed description of the events in every movie. Peter’s soul cried.

When they arrived, Bucky headed straight for a kiosk rather than the normal ticketing counters. He typed in his information and reward card, the machine printing out tickets that had apparently already been paid for. Peter’s eyebrows crashed together. Why had Bucky paid for the tickets? Was there some kind of discount?

“I wanted to make sure we got good seats, so I ordered them online!” Bucky said to Peter’s confused look.

“Oh… Cool. Then I guess I’ll get the popcorn.” The food and drinks would probably be far more than the tickets anyways. Bucky was grinning in response. At least he was happy to have a packhorse for all of his snacks. Maybe that would be enough for today since Peter had skipped out on lunch.

They proceeded inside, and Peter planted himself in line for concessions. Bucky stayed for all of two minutes before wandering off, pretending to need the bathroom, but Peter could clearly see him heading off to a few arcade machines stuffed in a corner. It wasn’t like anyone enjoyed standing in line, but apparently Bucky deemed himself better than such things. He’d even left Peter with a list of items to buy, “if he wanted.” As if Peter had much of a choice.

It was a good fifteen minutes later that Peter was standing aside waiting on his order when someone walked up behind him. He expected Bucky, but that would have been preferable to who was there.

“Peter! Wow! How long has it been?”

Turning, Peter came face to face with Johnny Storm, his college fling. If he could even call it that. It had been more college “experimenting” for Johnny, leaving a naive Peter hurt and bitter afterwards. As much as he wanted to hate Johnny, he didn’t, but that didn’t make their meeting any less awkward.

“Oh, heeey.” Peter forced a smile on his face. “How have you been?”

“Been doing great!” Johnny’s chest puffed up with pride. “I got my pilot’s license already, but then I was badgered into becoming an underwear model. I just couldn’t say no to the people out there dying to see me naked.”

Peter resisted rolling his eyes. “Wow. That sounds great. You deserve it.” Peter was, of course, aware of how hot Johnny was and still found himself affected by it, though not nearly so much as to make the same mistakes of his youth.

“I heard you went to work for that rich kid.”

“Harry, yeah. His business is doing well.”

“Cool, cool. So what are you seeing?”

Peter repressed a sigh. “That new Fast and Furious movie…”

Johnny laughed. “You hate those kinds of movies! Who made you see that?”

Thankfully, Peter’s response was interrupted by an attendant calling his order number. He raised his hand, and they headed his way. Johnny’s eyes widened as the employees started stacking up the massive amount of food Peter had ordered. “You here with friends or you got a girlfriend now? Mine’s freshening up in the bathroom as we speak. She’s smoking. You should see her. I imagine you’d go more for the nerdy chicks, though.”

Peter offered a tight smile. “Not quite.”

Johnny pulled a face. “You still doin’ that? Man, I’m telling you, ya just need to find the right girl.”

Though it was always annoying to hear, Peter couldn’t hate Johnny for those comments. Peter had had the luxury of growing up in an accepting home environment. Johnny had not. So after fooling around with Peter in secret on and off for years, Johnny had convinced himself that it was just a phase. Peter should have been angry, but all he’d ever felt was pity for Johnny being unable to better accept his sexuality, whatever it would be without the looming presence of expectations from his family.

“What a shitty fucking thing to say.”

Peter almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Bucky’s voice right behind him. He turned wide eyes to the relaxed and jovial grin plastered across Bucky’s face. Looking back, Johnny appeared just as shell shocked.

“And you are?” Johnny asked.

Bucky threw his arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Here with him.”

Peter’s head reeled. That sounded a lot different than Bucky meant it. What was happening? After a few moments of static, his brain helpfully supplied the memory of Bucky having pulled something like this before. It seemed the man was not okay with any form of gay-bashing.

It was unusual since Peter’s bullies enjoyed picking on even the most mundane of things, but apparently Bucky had a line he wouldn’t cross. Perhaps someone in his friend group was gay. Well, even if he did have standards, it didn’t make up for the rest of the subtle torture he’d put Peter through.

Johnny’s eyes flicked between them. “Oh, so you’re—”

“Are these your friends?” An absolute bombshell of a woman in a dress far too skin tight for a public setting walked up and wrapped herself around Johnny’s arm.

“Hey, babe.” Johnny was instantly distracted, cooing over the woman in a way that was cringe-worthy to watch. “Yeah, we went to school together.”

“Cute,” she said in possibly the most chipper yet disinterested way that Peter had ever heard.

“I’ll see you around then, Peter!” Johnny said with a wave, too distracted by jiggling boobs to even notice Peter’s wave and mumbled response.

“What a dick,” Bucky muttered.

 _You’re one to talk,_ Peter thought. “What time is it?”

Bucky checked his watch, and it was clear that the moment with Johnny vanished in an instant. “Shit! Let’s hurry.” In his rush, Bucky grabbed more than half the food ordered, apparently forgetting about making his packhorse lug it all, and leaving Peter to only carry the drinks and a box of cookie dough bites stuffed under one arm.

Getting to their seats wasn’t so bad, but finding a place to put all of their stuff was a problem. The boxes of candy had to be bent out of shape to fit into the extra cup holders to either side of them, though their neighbors looked none-too-happy about that. Still, they both had popcorn between their legs, Bucky had a hot dog on each knee, and Peter precariously balanced a tray of nachos on his thigh, the hot cheese burning him through his pants.

Bucky ragged on trailers and ate loudly, but Peter held out hope that such antics would settle down once the movie started. He was wrong. Bucky was one of _those_ guys during a movie. Peter was starting to suspect that Bucky’s friends weren’t tired of the Fast and Furious franchise, they were just tired of going out with Bucky.

He laughed loudly at any jokes, fist-pumped and yelled at the car tricks, and went so far as to throw popcorn and boo at the bad guys. A girl in front of them turned around with some choice words about the corn kernels in her hair. Even she _whispered_ her deadly threats. Bucky had some strange ailment that prevented him from whispering like a normal human being.

Peter sipped his drink as quietly as he could and tried to sink into the cushions of his seat.

A soft pretzel, some nachos, a box of raisinets (because he was mostly sure Bucky wouldn’t steal those), and a lot of popcorn was not the healthiest dinner, but Peter’s stomach had suffered through worse in college. He considered grabbing food on the way home, daydreaming about his options in an effort to block out the bad movie and scowling patrons around him. Of course, he’d spent a lot on this movie trip. Perhaps he should just eat some ramen.

Bucky stretched and proceeded to manspread about halfway through the film. His thigh pressed up against Peter’s as if he wanted to take up both seats. He even slouched to the side, causing Peter to fold in on himself to try and get some space, though it helped very little. Bucky was far too warm, his thigh radiating a near uncomfortable amount of heat. It was also annoyingly muscled in comparison to Peter’s own. All that speed walking apparently paid off.

That would still not convince Peter to give up his lunch in favor of sweating to death and feeling gross the rest of the day. Civilized society had gyms for a reason.

Explosions took over most of the third act. Peter rated each one on a scale of one to ten in his head. Bucky was excited, though, and literally applauded a couple of times. Peter bit back a laugh. He didn’t want to end up on Bucky’s shit list for losing his composure.

The credits rolled and Bucky collapsed back into his seat with a satisfied sigh. He looked over and grinned wide, slugging Peter in the arm and almost causing him to drop his drink. He flailed like an idiot trying to catch it. Bucky didn’t hold back on _his_ laugh.

“Wasn’t that great?”

“Yeah, real great.” Peter was not successful in keeping all the sarcasm out of his voice, but thankfully the loud credits music covered most of it.

“We should totally do this again!”

“Totally…” Peter shoved the straw into his mouth to prevent himself from whining.

Bucky grabbed their trash and stacked it all into his empty popcorn bucket, including the half-eaten box of candy Peter had been nursing. _Thanks for asking if I was finished,_ he groused to himself. Bucky took no notice and just pushed his way through the crowd and towards the exit. Peter trudged along after, getting jostled by the impatient line of people. This was why he preferred waiting until the credits ended.

Once free of the swarm of people, Bucky’s hand shot out of nowhere and took hold of Peter’s arm, dragging him to the arcade games out front. There weren’t many, and nobody was playing anything, but they were grown men. Should they really be doing this?

According to Bucky, yes. He pushed Peter into the bucket seat of a racing game like they were about to recreate the movie. Peter hated these games. He wasn’t terrible at racing on gaming consoles, but having an actual wheel, pedals, and gear shift made it much more difficult. Who actually owned a driver's license in NYC when public transit was available? 

Unsurprisingly, Bucky won the race by a lot. Peter’s hand-eye coordination wasn’t much better than his practical driving skills, but when they shot zombies, he at least held his own far better than he had during paintball. The collaborative setup of the game was not nearly as grating — right up until it showed how many zombies each of them had managed to kill.

Bucky was obnoxiously happy about his wins. Well, it was probably for the best. Outdoing bullies at things they enjoyed never boded well.

Once Bucky had his fill, Peter hoped to be released, but he was not so lucky. Bucky insisted that they walk. For fun. Bucky and his stupid walking. Peter shivered in his coat as they wandered around. Bucky went so far as to drag them to a nearby park just to visit a hotdog stand.

“Two please,” Bucky said, hands in his pocket as he dictated exactly how they should be made. Peter stepped closer to the cart, hoping to get some kind of residual heat off the boiler. Bucky kept shifting side to side as he eyed and debated all the condiments, pushing into Peter’s space obnoxiously.

“And you, sir?” the vendor asked.

Peter startled. He hadn’t planned on getting anything, but he _had_ been thinking about eating something marginally more substantial. He may as well take advantage of the situation. He ordered something simple, hoping that it would deter Condiment Lover Bucky from stealing it.

“Have a good night!” The vendor held out both hands with the respective hot dogs.

Peter took his before noticing that Bucky only had one, and the food was already paid for. Shit, Peter had assumed the vendor saw him as a new customer. He’d gone and stolen Bucky’s food. Just great. Another perfect scenario for Bucky to pick a new punishment. He _really_ didn’t want to play paintball again.

The hot dog tasted like regret.

“It’s a nice night out,” Bucky said after practically inhaling his food.

“Mm.” Thankfully, a mouthful of bun prevented Peter from having to come up with anything more eloquent.

“It makes me wanna stay out all night.”

 _Please, no._ Peter swallowed a little too soon and tried not to choke on the dry bread. “Ah… I’ve still got that data recall project I’m working on, ya know?”

“Yeah, work always gets in the way.” Bucky frowned for a bit as they walked along before brightening back up like a flipped lightbulb. “So we just need a night where work doesn’t get in the way!”

“Uh… The weekend?” Peter had been dragged along on weekends before. He wasn’t sure what the big difference was. Unless Bucky was just dense. He was probably dense.

“This weekend sounds great!”

 _Shit. That’s not what I meant._ “I mean… um…” Peter desperately tried to think of a way to redirect this into something not terrible for him. “Where would we go—”

“No, no! We should stay in.”

“In?” What was Bucky going on about?

“Yeah! I’ll come over to your place after work Friday. Then we’ll have the whole night! Ohhh, we should pick some movies to binge. I’ll bring popcorn. We could go through the whole Fast and Furious franchise.” Bucky had a bounce in his step like he’d just had the greatest idea in the world.

Peter felt like curling up on the sidewalk and letting himself get trampled by pedestrians. “M-my place?”

“We’ll mine’s too small and too much of a mess.” Bucky elbowed Peter in the ribs with a laugh. “I bet yours is spotless. You look like the type.”

Peter winced and rubbed at the spot he was jabbed. He got the hint. He was expected to provide Bucky with a sparkling clean place to hang out and then clean up after his mess. It certainly wasn’t the first time. Eventually, Bucky would probably bring his whole friend group over, have a party, trash Peter’s place… 

“Yeah. Spick and span.” Peter morosely chomped into the rest of his hot dog.

At least Bucky was somewhat predictable. Peter hated it when he didn’t know what was coming. Silver linings, he supposed.

~*~

Peter gazed at his sparkling clean apartment morosely. The usual feeling of accomplishment and relief associated with finishing chores was lacking because he hadn’t done any of it for himself. No, all his hard work was just to please Bucky Barnes, the most special breed of annoying bully. Peter frowned at his sparkling countertops and resisted the urge to smear random condiments all over them.

He wouldn’t stoop to that level of pettiness.

Also, it was counterintuitive since it was his own house.

He glanced at the time. It wouldn’t be long before the pain in the ass showed up. Peter decided to flop down onto his couch and zen out for as long as he could. He’d just closed his eyes and managed to relax when the doorbell rang. Damn Bucky for being the only bully that ever showed up _early_ to things.

Groaning, Peter pulled himself off the couch and dragged his feet to the door. May as well get it over with. He promised himself that he could binge World of Warcraft all day tomorrow as a reward.

The door opened and there Bucky stood, grinning and carrying a plastic bag full of microwave popcorn in one hand and a case of beer in the other. Peter did his level best to smile in return as he stood aside and waved the man in. The nights were getting colder and the chilly air rushed into the apartment as if it carried Bucky along like a winter soldier sent by the ice queen. Seemed fitting.

“I hope you’re ready for movie night!” Bucky crowed as he strutted into the apartment, eyes darting this way and that to take it all in. “You got a nice place here, Pete.”

 _I suppose that means you approve of my cleaning skills,_ Peter sassed in his head. “Sit wherever you like.”

Bucky dropped the beer and popcorn on the recliner, like he somehow knew that was Peter’s favorite spot, and then sprawled on the couch. He grinned as he looked around before his eyes alighted on the gaming consoles stuffed into the entertainment center. He began to laugh as Peter stood by awkwardly, awaiting judgement.

“How many consoles do you have?” Bucky asked, extremely amused. He looked like the kind of guy who never learned how to play anything but Halo.

Peter shrugged. “I like games.” He hefted the case of beer and waddled to the kitchen with it. “I’ll put some of these in the fridge.”

“Oh, could you bring me one? They should still be cold.”

 _“Bring me a beer.” How cliche._ Peter sighed and obeyed. No point in arguing now.

“Let’s get some popcorn started, too!” Bucky called as he tapped at his phone, not bothering to get up and do anything for himself.

“Sure.” Peter delivered the beer before moving on to his next servant routine.

Bucky fiddled with the remotes, obviously confused about how to work a smart TV with so many things connected. Peter let the man struggle, selfishly amused by it, as he watched the popcorn spin in the microwave. He’d never had anything against popcorn in the past, but it was starting to be associated with Bucky at his most annoying.

_Stupid Bucky ruining popcorn for me._

“I think your remote’s broken,” Bucky said as Peter walked in with the steaming bag of Orville’s. Peter just smiled as he traded items and then hit the right buttons to bring up Vudu. “Oh. Cool. Let’s sign into my account! I have the best movies on there.”

“I’m sure we could find something to watch here,” Peter said, desperate to not get caught up in any more bro movies. He flipped through his archive as Bucky watched the choices fly by with utter disinterest. Peter claimed the recliner in the meantime, happy that it put some distance between them.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked when they got to the long collection of old MST3k movies. Of course Bucky hadn’t a clue what they were.

“Mystery Science Theater 3000,” Peter supplied. At Bucky’s continued blank look, Peter expanded. “They watch old movies and do commentary on them. It’s funny.”

“Uh… sure.”

Peter turned back to the screen, trying to get control of the emotions that heated his face. He refused to be ashamed of his hobbies. _Plenty_ of people liked MST3k! It pissed him off so much when bullies were convinced that only _their_ interests mattered and all else were dumb.

“We could watch the original Ghostbusters.” That was a safe choice, right? Everyone liked that movie.

“Oh man, I haven’t seen that since I was a kid.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged in relief. At least that was a movie he enjoyed. He looked it up and clicked on it before Bucky could change his mind.

The night became a bit of a blur after that. Old movies, popcorn, tuning out Bucky’s inane commentary, a terrible beer pressed into his hands, and then trudging to the fridge for some hard lemonade. Bucky had laughed, proclaiming Peter’s preference for drinks that tasted good as “cute.” If Bucky thought drinking cheap horse piss was manly, then Peter wanted none of that.

It was late when Peter dove into his phone, playing a game to distract himself. Bucky caught Peter in the act and confiscated the cell on the way back from getting another beer, leaving Peter to fume in anger, his ears burning from it. When Bucky went so far as to drag Peter onto the couch to “keep an eye on him,” Peter felt like he was going to bust a vein in his forehead from how livid he was. His whole body felt hot with it, and Bucky’s warm presence and overt attention weren’t helping anything.

“This has been really nice, you know,” Bucky said, his body sliding a little further into Peter’s space.

 _If you were going to take up the whole couch, why did you make me sit on it?_ “Mm,” Peter responded instead, not trusting his voice.

“It’s amazing how well we get along.”

 _I’m not stupid enough to argue and get injured when you demand something, but you don’t have to rub in the fact that I can’t do anything about it._ “Mmhm.” Peter dug his fingers into his pants in an effort not to punch Bucky.

“It’s so late.”

 _Then go home!_ Peter kept his eyes glued to the TV, though he couldn’t say what was even happening. “Yeah.”

“Maybe I should just stay the night.”

Peter made a choked off noise of alarm. _No!_ Bucky staying would be the worst. He would take over the bedroom and leave Peter on the couch. And what about Miles? There would be no hiding him from Bucky’s bumbling curiosity. What if he got hurt? Peter had to think his way out of this, but his thoughts were spiraling, his breath coming too fast.

Bucky chuckled. “You’re so cute right now.”

Peter’s thoughts derailed. What the actual fuck was that about? He turned to look at Bucky in some attempt to figure out why that was even said. Before he could come up with some semblance of an explanation, Bucky’s face was leaning forward, giving Peter no time to rationalize what was going to happen before it did.

Bucky’s lips were on his, and the entire world stopped for a moment. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t think a single thought. All he could hear was static.

Then Bucky’s hand slid into his hair and a clumsy tongue swiped against his lips and everything crashed into Peter at once. He would _not_ be used as an outlet for some sexuality crisis. That was too far! He had laid down and let himself get run over for everything else, but he refused to go along with this. Anything but this.

But fear clogged his chest. He’d never had a bully go this far, demand this much from him. Would Peter get hurt for refusing? Held down and forced? Panic bubbled up in his gut, twining through the outrage in his veins. When Bucky’s other hand slid up the back of his shirt, he exploded.

“Get the fuck off me!” Peter shoved and scrambled back, falling off the couch with a loud thump. He stumbled to his feet, vision blurring, chest tight, face flaming. “How dare you? I’m not some sex toy you can use and forget about!”

“What—”

“No! Haven’t you done enough, forcing me to pay for all your shit and torturing me with your friends? You are not going to molest me just because you want to experiment! Fuck you for using me like this. I don’t care if you turn the office against me. You think I’m not used to that? To people like you?”

Peter’s heel collided with something, and he realized that the room was just a blur. Damn Bucky for making him cry. He blinked rapidly, tears streaking down his cheeks, though he knew that crying meant begging to be mocked and laughed at. His eyes darted around the room until they found Bucky, still sitting on the couch.

Bucky, who looked shocked.

Who looked _hurt._

Peter was stunned. What right did Bucky have to look like that after what he’d just done? Did he think he could just get away with—

“Torture?” Bucky whispered. He looked unsteady, his face pale. His voice was weak and wobbly when he spoke again. “I… But I… We’re dating. I just wanted to introduce you to my friends.”

“Dating?” There was nothing in their shared experience that constituted as dating, right?

“You took me on dates. During lunch. And the theater—”

“I’m not an idiot! I know what would have happened if I refused to buy you food! You proved that at the bar.”

“You really were mad that night,” Bucky whispered.

Why was he still acting like this? Like everything was some elaborate misunderstanding? This was just another setup. That must be it. If Peter questioned what actually happened, or was forced to apologize for being pushed around, then Bucky could point and laugh at Peter’s expense.

“Is everything a joke to you?” Peter snapped. Bucky was using this stupid dating excuse because he thought Peter would fall for it — all because he preferred men. “Just because I’m gay, that means you can just stomp all over me like this? I bet it’s a joke you’ve been itching to tell! Well, it’s fucking stupid and childish. Grow up!”

It had always made no sense why Bucky had been so calm about that sort of thing. He didn’t act like the progressive type. So it must have been some elaborate prank that was going over Peter’s head until now. Of course it was.

Bucky stood up and flinched when Peter immediately retreated a few more steps. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t advance on his usually docile prey to beat some sense into Peter, but he did try to spew shit again. “I don’t think that about—”

“Get out of my house!” Peter shouted. He couldn’t stand to listen to any more of this. “I don’t care what you plan to do later. Threaten me all you like, but I’m not doing this. Get out!” It was getting harder to talk. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“Pete, I—”

“Don’t call me that!” Peter shouted. He stumbled backwards, slamming into the bartop of his connected kitchen. “Stop acting like you’re my friend!”

“Please, this isn’t what I—”

“GET! OUT!” Peter was shaking, and his vision blurred again.

For a long time, he’d been convinced that something like this would happen. Sometimes they’d threaten it in high school as they crowded around him, mocking and jeering, looking for anything they could to get Peter to cry or panic for their entertainment.

_“How much do you think he’d make in a night if we stuck him in a glory hole?”_

_“Not much. You can tell he’d be shit at it.”_

Peter gripped the sides of his head, eyes clenched shut as he tried to block out the voices of the past. They’d never done it, but he’d been so scared. They were just one bored night away from getting too drunk for rationality to stop them.

He didn’t want to be scared anymore.

“Okay.”

The word barely filtered through the rush in Peter’s ears. He blinked away more tears in order to see the door shutting behind Bucky’s unusually silent form. Peter launched himself at the door and threw the deadbolt before sliding the chain home. He collapsed into a heap in the entryway, forcing himself to count his breaths in and out to slow them down.

Everything hurt, inside and out. He didn’t know if he could keep this up. His past continued to haunt him with new faces beating him down with new ideas. Bucky had to be the worst by far, the one that never threw a punch but still managed to hurt the most. The one that reminded Peter that he’d never escape this particular brand of hell.

He curled up right there on the hard floor and wished the world away, for what little good that had ever done him.

~*~

Though Peter had considered never going to work again, he showed up early Monday morning in order to avoid everyone and lock himself in his office. He was on edge most of the day, ready for anything, but nothing happened. The silence and lack of retaliation was somehow a torture in and of itself. He didn’t like not knowing what was coming.

He tried to cling to his self-righteous anger, but fear crawled along his skin. If Bucky did anything at all during the work day, Peter was prepared to report it to Harry in an instant. Sure, maybe proving that Peter could force Harry to fire someone would make enemies of the entire office, but nobody liked him anyways. What difference did it make?

By the time lunch rolled around, Peter was too sick with nerves to eat. He stayed sequestered in his office, cursing at how much he hated babying the Python program. At least dealing with code was a good distraction from the rest of his life. Lunch break was nearly over when something finally happened.

Peter’s door opened without a knock, and he flinched hard, wide eyes swinging to the frosted glass. It wasn’t who he expected. Sam stood there, face stormy and jaw tight. He glared at Peter. Sam’s expression all but confirmed that Bucky was spreading lies about Peter. Fine. If it was hurtful rumors and Peter could get Sam to admit it, then that was also grounds for termination.

“Well?” Peter bit out. He both did and did not want to hear whatever it was that was being whispered about him through the office.

“Ya know, when I first started here, I just thought you were socially awkward,” Sam responded, lip curling in disgust. “Now I know you’re actually an asshole.”

 _Speak for yourself,_ Peter thought but his throat was too tight to force the words without screaming.

“Hell, I didn’t even like Bucky, but you jerking him around like that is fucked up.”

Oh, so Bucky was sticking to that bullshit dating story. He was so uncreative. “So that’s what he told—” Peter gritted through clenched teeth but was interrupted.

“He didn’t tell us shit!” Sam shouted. Behind him, heads turned to look. Peter felt heat creep up his neck, furious at being the center of attention during this. “He just showed up at Steve’s a crying wreck and drank himself stupid until he blubbered nonsense. I pieced it together.”

“What are you—”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you, the first guy he felt comfortable enough around to actually date for more than a week. But I saw you when he wasn’t looking. You thought nobody noticed how much you hated pretending to be the shy boyfriend, but I did. Fuck you for stomping all over him like that. Sure, he’s annoying as hell, but he doesn’t deserve that. Were you really that bored?”

Peter’s head reeled. This was all a lie. It had to be. They were in this together and just making up something for the office so Peter looked at fault. This was his punishment for pushing Bucky away and making him leave.

“I’m not going to let you come in here and bully me over—”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, he muttered about _that_ in a drunken stupor.” He stepped forward and put a finger into Peter’s face. “Bucky’s never bullied anyone in his life. When they were kids, Bucky protected Steve from it and was a mess the day Steve landed in the hospital when Bucky was too sick to show up at school. Trying to convince him that he was bullying you was the worst fucking thing you’ve done so far.”

Peter’s ears were ringing. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t how the world worked. “You’re lying.”

“Fuck you,” Sam spat. “Leave Bucky alone. The only bully here is _you_.”

With that, Sam turned on his heel and stomped out of the office, the glass door slowly swinging shut behind him, showing off all the gaping faces trying to determine what was happening. Bucky was not among them. He wasn’t even in the office to gloat over what Sam had said. It occurred to Peter that perhaps this wasn’t a setup.

But if it wasn’t…

If it wasn’t, if it was all real, if that was what had actually happened, then Peter was…

He ran through every interaction between them since the day they met, changing the filter from his own fear to Bucky’s hopeful but terrible attempts at dating. Going out to lunch, meeting his friends, being on the same team of an already full game of paintball, texting non-stop, going to the movies, throwing his arm around Peter when Johnny—

No! It wasn’t possible, was it? Peter tried to think about their conversations, if there was any other indication that it was real or fake. But Peter didn’t remember what they talked about. He’d zoned out during all of it. He’d only ever offered mild responses to make it sound like he cared. He hadn’t even tried to learn the names of Bucky’s friends the first night at the bar.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d never had to pay for anything when they’d all gone out. None of his friends had pestered him or pushed him around. Only Sam had acted out with narrowed, suspicious eyes whenever Peter pulled a face thinking nobody was looking. But that would mean—

No!

Peter wasn’t the bully here! He wasn’t! It wasn’t his fault!

Bucky’s hurt, pale expression from movie night flashed through his mind, along with the defeated posture framed by the door. Bucky had left without a fight. Without a word. All while Peter screamed about how awful the man was.

Peter couldn’t breathe.

Pain wracked his body, and his throat closed up. The world around him fell away. He was nothing but a child again, being held against the hard brick wall of the school building during recess. A kid nearly twice his size was leaning all his weight into the palms planted on Peter’s sternum. They were laughing because his chest couldn’t expand. They were taking bets on how long it would take for him to pass out.

Peter couldn’t scream for help. His head was spinning. He couldn’t even get enough air to cry. His arms flailed around him, but it was useless. He couldn’t fight them off. They grabbed his wrists and pressed them into the abrasive brick at his sides. There was taunting laughter about how weak he was. How he couldn’t escape. How he was useless.

“Look at me!” The words were shouted by an adult, but he didn’t see any nearby, only the jeering, gap-toothed faces of the kids around him. “Peter! Focus on me!”

Harry’s face swam in front of him, overlaying the memory. Peter tried to shake his head, to grab something real to ground him, but he felt too heavy. His hip flared with pain like a bee sting. Peter still couldn’t catch his breath, his chest painfully heavy, but his head was growing fuzzy, the vision of his past shattering around him.

“I gave you a shot. Just focus on breathing.” Harry’s voice was warped and muffled. Peter tried to blink to clear his vision, but it felt too slow. The world tilted around him.

In the back of his mind, some snarky voice reminded him of why he stayed with Harry, why he didn’t quit and work from home, why he didn’t take his education and experience and move across the country. _Harry has the right to knock you out when you go crazy._ It had been a long time since Peter had suffered from a panic attack bad enough to be put under, but the threat was always there. Always looming. Always keeping him trapped.

His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, his lips numb. Belatedly, he realized his cheeks were wet and his throat hurt. He’d probably screamed. It wouldn't have been the first time. Around him was nothing but air, the glass of his office missing. He was somewhere else, probably dragged out to give Harry room. With the open office plan, it meant he was on display to everyone.

Great. Now he’d never be able to face his coworkers again.

Peter’s eyes rolled, trying to focus on the small crowd gathered behind Harry’s head. His gaze landed on Bucky’s face. Stupid Bucky looking terrified and worried. Stupid Bucky crying at the sight of Peter. Stupid Bucky whispering, “I’m sorry.”

After all, Peter was the bully now, right? He was his own worst enemy.

Stupid Bucky for not hating Peter.


	2. The Smitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is going to have some very dudebro thoughts about homosexuality and gender roles. This is how I have characterized him. I am aware that _how_ he thinks can be considered bad form. Bucky is not perfect and he’s still learning. Let us all encourage our local good-intentioned dudebros to educate themselves and broaden their horizons.

Bucky Barnes had always known he was bisexual, though he’d done little about that. Sure, he and Steve had fooled around some in high school, but time moved on and they had gone their separate ways. He was happy enough just staying friends.

As it so happened, Bucky didn’t do well in the gay dating scene. He wasn’t that experienced and men preferred not to waste time before determining if they were sexually compatible. The problem was, Bucky tended to be nervous in the bedroom. Steve had found that cute, but when Bucky’s first two dates with men had ended in them questioning why he couldn’t keep it up, Bucky had determined that he really didn’t want to suffer through the embarrassment again.

And so, Bucky dated exclusively women for a while. Except, women were all about talking and feelings, and they always complained that Bucky was bad at being a partner. He’d been broken up with no less than 35 times though he’d never been the one to end a relationship himself. He had started to think he was simply un-date-able.

Until Peter Parker appeared.

Peter was not what one expected to see in the gay dating scene. He wasn’t super obsessed with his weight or physique, and his shy, quiet personality wasn’t just for show. He also didn’t expect to be doted on like women. Peter had flirted first, bought Bucky things, even took them on a lunch date with no pressure about rushing home immediately afterwards to fuck. In fact, Peter liked going slow if his constant blushing and short, mumbled responses were anything to go by.

Bucky was completely and utterly wooed.

Until he realized that his dream man was, in fact, just a dream.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Bucky had hold of Sam’s jacket and used it to slam the man against the painted cinderblock wall of the stairwell. At least they were out of sight of their coworkers here.

“Back off!” Sam snapped, shoving at Bucky’s chest. “I was doing you a favor!”

“Fuck you,” Bucky spat. “Harry had to _sedate_ him. Why in the fuck would I want that?”

Sam had the courtesy to look guilty for all of three seconds. “He was jerking you around by the balls. It was disgusting to watch. He didn’t care about you at all, and then he accuses you of—”

“I told you to stay out of it!” Bucky shoved Sam back into the wall once more before letting go and pacing off a few steps. He ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

The sight of Peter curled up on the floor, screaming for help and hyperventilating, still haunted Bucky. He had planned to withdraw without a word, make it clear that he wasn’t going to cause any issues. Peter didn’t deserve any of that. Bucky couldn’t help feeling like the panic attack was also his fault. If he’d been more sober that night he went to his friends, made it clear exactly what had happened, had kept his mouth shut and only talked to Steve, then maybe Sam wouldn’t have gone off on his own.

“Why are you acting like he’s innocent?” Sam demanded.

“I’m not asking you to understand,” Bucky growled. He turned to glare at Sam. “I know what abuse does to a person. I’ve been friends with Steve for how long? It’s my fault for not noticing, and I refuse to let you blame Peter when he thought he was protecting himself. Don’t _ever_ go near him again.”

Sam looked ready to argue more, but Bucky stormed off before he lost his temper and threw a punch.

~*~

Days passed and still Peter didn’t return to work. People occasionally murmured about what happened, but their mouths clicked shut with one look from Bucky. Mr. Osborn sent out a notice about the code of conduct, namely the rule banning employees from discussing the details of other people’s medical conditions at work. Since nobody wanted to be fired, it effectively stopped breakroom gossip in its tracks. Bucky was grateful.

That didn’t stop him from worrying. Guilt and fear ate at him constantly. He both did and did not want to see Peter. Every time his mind wandered, he’d think about all their dates and how different they’d been through Peter’s eyes. It was an awful feeling. There Bucky had been flying high and happy while Peter was drowning in despair.

It made him sick.

He didn’t want to talk about it, no matter how much Steve pushed. Clint and Natasha didn’t say a word and would change the subject if it ever strayed too close. Bucky wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than Steve’s sympathetic looks. Rounding out the group was Tony being oblivious and Sam being sullen. By the time they were making weekend plans, Bucky declared he wouldn’t be there. He just couldn’t handle them right now.

By Friday, Bucky was struggling to focus on his job, so it was no surprise that he was called into the boss’s office. He sat in the chair across from the shiny mahogany desk, eyes on his shoes, and looking like a kicked puppy. There was an oppressive silence as Mr. Osborn sat back in his chair and just watched Bucky for a painfully long time.

Mr. Osborn sighed. “Listen, let’s cut to the chase. I don’t think that you’re a bad guy, and I need my data scientist back.”

Bucky flinched and looked up with wide eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Having come to some sort of conclusion, Harry ripped a piece of paper from his notepad and slid it across the desk. It contained a list of random items: Star Wars, DC, sour patch kids… “Those are all things that Peter likes.”

“What?” Bucky stared at the list. He didn’t know a single one of them. After all the time they’d spent together, Bucky hadn’t learned a damned thing about his crush. He was aware that he rambled when he was nervous and had done a lot of that on their dates, but had he listened to anything Peter said? Had there even been a chance for Peter to talk? “Why are you giving this to me?”

“To help you.” Mr. Osborn leaned back in his chair and stretched. He looked tired now that Bucky was paying attention. “I’m not saying that I think you two should date. Hell, I’m not sure if it’s best that the two of you should be friends. I _am_ saying that this is a learning experience for Peter. He sees enemies everywhere, and I think if you two talk and make up, it will help him a lot.”

It took a moment for Bucky’s brain to catch up. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

Mr. Osborn shrugged. “He doesn’t, but he never wants to do anything that’s good for him.”

Bucky stared at the list, his stomach a riot of nervous butterflies. The anticipation of seeing Peter again had grown exponentially every day this week — as had the shame that followed when it became clear that Peter wasn’t going to be at work again. Being told to just go talk to Peter…that was almost too much. Then again, Bucky was dying to explain what happened and apologize. Was it selfish of him to want that when he knew Peter didn’t want anything to do with Bucky?

“You know where he lives,” Mr. Osborn continued. “Bring him something with sugar and talk it out. He’s got a sweet tooth a mile long and can pack away anything you bring him. So long as he’s stuffing his face, he’ll shut up and listen.”

Bucky remembered feeling so good about himself for getting Peter to eat the tiniest bit of dessert at the cafe. Knowing now that Peter loved sweets and felt obligated to decline made guilt gnaw away at Bucky’s stomach. _Fuck_ , he was so stupid. Was there anything at all that he’d genuinely learned about Peter?

“I thought you guys were friends.” Bucky looked up at Mr. Osborn’s calm face. “Why not just fire me? My work has been shit lately, I know that, and since Peter hates me—”

“Peter thinks everyone in the office hates him, so he hates them back as a way to protect himself. If I fired everyone he hated, I wouldn’t have a company. I am his friend, yes, but coddling him does him no good and doesn’t help run my business.”

“Does Peter have any other friends?” Bucky didn’t know why his mouth decided to blurt that out, but he instantly regretted it. He winced, afraid that Mr. Osborn would take offense.

“Other than online? No.” He spread his hands. “That’s why _he_ doesn’t know how to talk to people or fix things after an argument. _You_ do.”

“Should you even be telling me all this?” After all, Bucky was sure this was a breach of the code of conduct. Not to mention, Peter was bound to be upset by it. Bucky sure would have been if the roles were reversed.

“You’re the closest thing he’s had to a friend since me, so I have to use what resources I have available. You care about him, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Bucky immediately responded.

“Good. Then go help him. The job is simple: be nice, make up, and get him back to work.”

After a few moments of internal debate, Bucky stuffed the slip of paper into his pocket and stood up. “Yes, sir.”

“Good man. I’ll see both of you Monday.”

~*~

Bucky hadn’t expected Peter to open the door right after he knocked, so they both stared at each other in surprise when it happened. The cold air rushed around them and into the apartment, rattling the paper bag in Bucky’s hand and catching the edges of the blanket Peter had wrapped around his shoulders. As they stared at each other, Peter’s face grew increasingly more panicked.

“Why are you here?” he choked out. His voice sounded as rough as he looked with greasy hair stuck up in every direction, circles under his eyes, and ratty pajamas under his fluffy blanket. Wide brown eyes locked onto the bag Bucky was holding. “Harry said he was sending a food delivery. Tell me he didn’t mean you.”

Bucky sighed, his breath fogging the air as his shoulders slumped. “I’m pretty sure he meant me. I’m sorry.”

Peter closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, tugging the edges of the blanket tighter around him. “Why did you come?”

“Um… You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to,” Bucky prefaced before holding up the bag he carried. “But I brought you something. And… well… I’d really like it if we could talk. Just for a bit.”

Peter eyed the bag and Bucky in turns, wary and distressed. He shifted his weight a few times before he finally whispered. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“I’ve never wanted to be anything but nice to you.”

Peter flinched at the words, but surprisingly, he shuffled back from the door and nodded, allowing Bucky to enter. The atmosphere between them was stiff as they made their way to the living room. The couch looked as if Peter had built a nest on it. He immediately went over to it and sat in the middle, body curled up and fidgeting. Bucky sat the bag on the coffee table before backing away and easing himself into the recliner, giving Peter as much room as he could.

They both sat there for a moment, struggling to figure out what to say. Peter looked ready to cocoon himself into his pile of blankets before he finally spoke. “Did Harry say anything to you?”

“Probably more than he should have.”

Peter cursed and hugged his knees into his chest. “What did he say?”

“He told me to talk it out with you.” Bucky pulled the notepaper from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table as well. “He gave me that.”

Sluggishly, Peter unfolded himself in order to pick up the paper and read over it. “Aren’t you supposed to hide that you have a cheat sheet?”

“I think it’s better to be completely honest.”

Peter frowned but said nothing as he set the paper back down and hooked one finger into the bag to peek in. His eyes grew wide as he pulled out a bottle of cream soda and an order of tiramisu from their go-to cafe. He popped the plastic lid off the container and gazed at the contents as if he was verifying that it was real.

“These weren’t on that list,” Peter said, voice soft.

“I know.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m at least observant enough for that.”

Peter set the items back down onto the table untouched and tilted his head at them as if they didn’t make sense. He finally turned to Bucky, eyebrows scrunched, fingers picking at the worn edges of his blanket-robe. “Why?”

It sounded as if the simple question asked a thousand things, and it likely did. Bucky didn’t know where to start, so he launched into his pre-prepared speech. “All of my ex-girlfriends told me I was a terrible boyfriend, but I assumed that was because they wanted us to pretend to be something that we couldn’t. If two people are meant to be together, it should all work out — no mess, no hassle. They said one day I would hurt someone I cared about, and get hurt in return, from thinking like that.”

 _They were right,_ Bucky scolded himself. He swallowed hard and continued.

“You didn’t want to talk about feelings. We meshed so well when we went out. You did everything I hoped for and made every date perfect. You didn’t complain about my friends being dicks like everyone else does. We liked all the same things.”

Bucky stared at his shoes and watched them bulge and flatten as he clenched his toes over and over. “Except… That was all in my head. I saw what I wanted to. Everything you did that made me happy was because you were scared. My exes were right… I hurt you. All because I wanted some magical relationship where I didn’t have to worry about how annoying talking is.”

And now here he was, trying to fix it by rambling. He hated this. He hated word vomiting and then people judging him for spilling his guts and how bad he was at expressing himself. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel. He hated not knowing if it would help or if someone would leave him for revealing who he was deep down inside. They would notice that he wasn’t smart or confident or suave or easy-going. He was a trainwreck of a person.

A trainwreck that had crashed into Peter. For all that Bucky hated talking so openly, it was nothing compared to the fear Peter must have lived in daily thinking Bucky was a manipulating asshole. “I’m afraid of showing you the real me” was nothing compared to “I’m afraid you’ll hurt me in every possible way.”

“This is all my fault,” Bucky muttered at his shoelaces. “I’m such a dick. I’m sorry.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Likely, Peter was contemplating the best words to rip Bucky open, to take all the hidden little things Bucky had shared and tear them apart until they were irreparable. It had always been his greatest fear, but at least now, he deserved it.

He flinched at the sound of a hissing pop and looked up to see that Peter had twisted off the top of the cream soda in order to sip at it. He twirled it in his hands, playing with the bits of condensation on the cold glass. Bucky watched, strangely hypnotized by it. He’d always loved how long Peter’s fingers were.

“I’ve never had anyone try to seriously date me,” Peter said, voice soft and deeper than normal. A self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “It figures that I wouldn’t even recognize it happening.”

Bucky cringed. “It’s not your fault. I—”

“Why don’t you hate me?” Peter stared at the bubbles crawling along the inside of the glass bottle. “I didn’t like you. I didn’t like your friends. I didn’t like anything we did.” He scrubbed angrily at his eyes, bouncing his glasses around as he did so. “Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“You sound mad enough for the both of us,” Bucky offered, but Peter just scoffed in return. “I can’t hate you, Peter. You don’t deserve that.”

“I would have hated _you_ ,” Peter whispered in response.

“I know.” Bucky took a deep breath. “But I’d like to think we don’t _need_ to hate each other.” He paused and peeked up at Peter before continuing, eyes on the coffee table legs. “I…want to get to know you. Like, for real this time, ya know? No expectations. And you can kick me if I fuck up. Or something. I dunno. Just…”

Why was it so hard to form words? _Fuck_ , he sounded like an idiot.

He looked up to see Peter watching him, baffled. “But… _why_?”

Bucky offered a small smile. “Why not? We never actually got to know each other at all, so it would be like meeting someone new, right?”

“We work together. We aren’t strangers,” Peter argued, though there was little heat in it.

“Speaking of…” Bucky felt his face heating as his eyes darted around the room. “Just so you know, every time I called you over to my desk… I mean, I just didn’t want you to think it was something bad, I just—well—I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

That sounded so lame. This was exactly why he kept his mouth shut about personal shit. Peter would rightly think that Bucky was childish and an idiot and never give him the time of day. Why would anyone want to get to know Bucky when they realized he was actually an awkward dumbass?

The sound of crunching plastic caught Bucky’s attention. Peter was opening the thin plastic bag of disposable utensils, pulling out the fork. He grabbed the tiramisu and sat back against the couch, container propped on his knees as he took small bites, savoring each one. Bucky watched, enthralled and mute.

Peter was about a fourth of the way through before he paused, sucking bits of chocolate off the fork before letting the tongs slip from his lips. Considering all that had happened, Bucky was probably going to hell for getting turned on at the sight.

“What if we don’t like each other?” Peter asked.

Bucky shook himself and focused on the question. “Then we stop hanging out and go back to being coworkers.”

Peter pursed his lips as he considered what to say next. “What if you hate all my hobbies and you think I’m boring to talk to? What if I’m not worth the effort?”

“Ya know…I’m worried about the same things.”

“But I did find you boring to talk to. And I hated your hobbies.” As harsh as the words were, Peter looked both terrified and guilty about saying them.

“Well…” Bucky considered their past interactions. “If I never got to talk about things I wanted to, or pick things that I liked, or say no to going somewhere, then, well, I probably would have hated it, too.”

Peter scraped the tongs of his fork along the empty section of the dessert container, and it rattled against the grooved plastic. “I never made fun of you, though. I hate crowds and sports are boring to me, but I understand that people like all of that. I didn’t mock you for it.”

“I’m not going to mock you for the things you like,” Bucky promised. He understood why Peter was terrified of that. Steve had been the same way for a long time, even with Bucky. To this day, Steve hated admitting that he liked to play Monopoly because one too many people had laughed at him for it.

“What if…” Peter swallowed hard, like what he was wanting to ask took a lot of effort. “What if I _think_ you’re making fun of me?”

“Then tell me. I’ll listen.” That was also something he had experience with because of Steve. It had been a long time since Steve had been that paranoid, but it wasn’t something Bucky was unused to.

Peter picked at the edges of his tiramisu as he considered that, likely weighing if he believed it or not. Finally, he asked, “Want to watch a movie?”

Bucky smiled. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from him. “Sure. You pick.” He knew it would be a test, but Bucky was willing to sit through the most monotonous documentary possible if it meant Peter would trust him.

And that should have been how the conversation ended, but just as Peter picked up the remote for the TV, the biggest damn spider Bucky had ever seen in his life crawled out from under the pile of blankets to Peter’s left.

“What the fucking shit is that?!” Bucky scrambled backwards, and considering he was sitting in the recliner, it resulted in him tumbling right over the back of it and onto the floor.

Peter flinched before gaping at Bucky’s ungraceful fall. He still looked a little shell-shocked when Bucky popped back up from the floor, peering over the edge of the armrest. The giant spider was unperturbed and kept crawling towards Peter. Bucky pointed a tense finger at it, his mouth flapping as he tried to shout the right words in warning and getting nothing out.

At last, Peter turned to look and sucked in a sharp breath before reaching out his hands to surround the thing. “Miles! I’m so sorry. It’s way past dinner time.”

Miles? Well, the spider was definitely big enough to have named itself.

Peter cooed at the spider until it had crawled into his hands. He then cradled it against his chest before turning wary eyes on Bucky, as if he was afraid of what Bucky might do instead of the giant creepy-crawly.

“He doesn’t bite,” Peter insisted. He curled up, acting as a human shield. “So please don’t…” His voice broke. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Please don’t hurt him,” he finished with a whisper.

 _It’s a pet tarantula,_ Bucky’s brain supplied far too late in the game. He pushed himself to his feet, but when Peter jerked back, Bucky held up his hands. “Sorry! Sorry. I was just… It surprised me.”

Neither of them knew what to say next. The tarantula slowly poked Peter’s palm with one fuzzy leg.

“Uh…” Bucky ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “So, yeah, it’s cool! Spiders are cool. I used to feed bugs to this big garden spider that lived on my back porch when I was growing up. They have a section at the zoo with a bunch of tarantulas and lizards and shit. You been there? It’s cool. I liked it. Miles, you said? I like that name. What kind of tarantula is it?” He was rambling again. _Damn it._

“He’s a Mexican Red-Knee,” Peter said, sounding just as nervous as Bucky. “That’s why he has the bright coloring.”

“Cool! Yeah. He’s cool.” Did he know _any_ other word than cool? “Really neat.” _Fuck!_

Peter looked unconvinced, which was totally valid. Bucky had never been this close to a tarantula, but he normally wasn’t spooked by them. Seeing one randomly crawl out of a pile of blankets was not how he’d ever thought to meet one, though. That said, it was clear Peter was worried Bucky would do something bad to the poor oblivious arachnid. He needed to fix that.

Slapping his best smile on his face, Bucky relaxed his posture and walked around the recliner. “I just usually expect to see those things in a cage or something, ya know? You must really get along if he’s out here roaming around.”

Peter turned his hand as Miles climbed all over it, looking for the aforementioned food that wasn’t there. “He likes to be warm, so he’ll curl up under the blankets with me.”

“Aw, but that’s kind of cute.”

Bucky’s grin was met with narrowed eyes. Peter carefully stood up from the couch, letting the blanket slide from his shoulders. “I should go feed him and put him back in his terrarium.”

“Oh, feed him? What do you feed him?” Bucky didn’t have to fake the excitement. He’d never seen a tarantula eat before. He wanted to see how it worked.

There was a lot of hesitation in Peter before he mumbled, “You can watch if you want. Just…don’t touch him.”

“Yeah! No. That makes sense. Don’t touch spider during chow time.”

“Mn.” Peter ducked his head and hurried by, heading further into the apartment. Bucky followed and discovered the master bedroom, untidy and covered in clashing collections of band posters he’d never heard of with nerdy names, comic book posters, anime wall scrolls, and beautiful framed artwork of classy photography. It was a glimpse into Peter’s life that Bucky had been so utterly oblivious to up until this point.

They made their way over to the terrarium, and Bucky kept his face nearly plastered to the glass as Miles was set into the tank and a cricket was released soon after. It was pretty badass to see the tarantula pounce on its prey like that, Bucky had to admit. He kept up a string of whispered commentary that he didn’t really notice he was doing until he looked up to see Peter giving him an odd look.

Bucky stood up and cleared his throat. “That was awesome.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry for being annoying.”

“It’s fine,” Peter said as he secured the top of the tank into place.

“You think I could feed him one day?” Bucky’s excitement over the idea bubbled inside of him.

“Ah… Maybe.”

Peter hurried back out of the bedroom and Bucky reluctantly followed, his eyes on both the tank and all to see in the rest of the room. There were bookshelves full of a massive variety of things. He was determined not to pry, however, though he really wanted to. He was discovering how bad he was at self-control when it came to other people’s personal lives, and he didn’t like realizing such things.

Finally, they got back to their movie plan. Bucky got some water from the kitchen, and Peter curled up in his nest to finish off his desert and cream soda. They watched something Bucky had never heard of where a guy and alien-looking things heckled and quipped at old black and white movies. It was weird at first, but Bucky got pretty into it. He was scolded for being a talker during movies by absolutely everyone, but this sort of thing invited him to add his own running thoughts _on purpose._ It was kinda great.

So it was that the night ended on a positive note with hope for the future. It was clear that Peter was still extremely uncertain about how things would work out between them, but Bucky was determined to prove that they could at least be friends. Thankfully, Peter was allowing Bucky the opportunity.

He was confident that, given the chance, things would work out.

~*~

Bucky was not confident about anything, and any thoughts he’d had about things working out were a big fat lie.

The problem was, Bucky wanted to be a good guy. He wanted to prove that they could be friends. He wanted to fix everything that had happened in the past. And in doing so, he was falling head over heels for Peter Parker far more than he ever had when he thought they were perfect together.

Bucky was an absolute idiot and had no idea what he was doing in any prior relationship. Knowing that now just made him all the more terrified of fucking up.

After a week of Peter being back at work and processing through his nerves about any possible office talk in regards to the panic attack, Bucky had suggested that they take lunches at the cafe again. This time, Bucky paid for everything, made sure Peter had his own dessert, let Peter set the pace of their trip, and insisted on listening rather than being the one to talk.

Unsure of how to have small talk, Peter had launched into concerns over his projects at work. All of it was such heavy technical jargon that it flew over Bucky’s head, but that hardly mattered. Peter was so animated as he talked, so passionate about the topic, and despite Bucky not even understanding half the words, Peter conversed like they were both the same level of intelligent. It was the cutest and sweetest fucking thing Bucky had ever experienced, and his crush grew tenfold.

Then came the day that Peter had pulled a camera from his bag and snapped a casual picture because the sunlight streaming through the cafe windows had hit a stack of glasses just right. Bucky discovered that the fancy art in Peter’s apartment were all _Peter’s_ photography.

“Earning a steady income in that field is difficult, and I’m terrible at making the right connections.” Peter shrugged as he adjusted the knobs on his complicated camera. “So I took all the courses I could in college, but I majored in something practical.” He snapped a few more shots before putting the camera away.

“You’re really good at it,” Bucky insisted.

Peter didn’t actually blush over compliments. Apparently, his face just turned blotchy red when angry (which was not something Bucky was proud to learn). Instead, when Peter was embarrassed or bashful or flustered, he would frown and fidget at something with his fingers, bottom lip slightly pushed out. He wasn’t used to such comments, probably didn’t know how to tell if they were truthful, but that wouldn’t stop Bucky from saying them at every given opportunity.

“Honestly, you’re really smart and talented. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

Peter spun his fork around in circles on the tabletop. “You’re stubborn.” It was said flat enough to make Bucky worry, but a miniscule smile tugged at the corner of Peter’s lips and crinkled the skin around his big, brown eyes.

Bucky grinned. “I’d like to think it’s one of my best qualities.”

“Sure.” Peter shook his head and turned to gaze out the big windows at the front of the cafe, chin propped in his hand so that his fingers covered his mouth lest he give himself away.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s heart was fluttering in his chest like something he hadn’t felt since high school.

This resulted in a lot of gushing to his friends. He was still angry at Sam, so he refused to be around the asshole for the time being. Instead, Bucky skipped the usual gym days that Sam and Steve hung out and invited himself over to Natasha’s Krav Maga classes that Steve and Clint attended. Well, Clint attended them. Steve was roped in, more often than not, to be used as a practice dummy for the class.

“—and so I looked up the band poster in his room and found out it was this hard rock group whose lyrics are all about science shit. I feel like I’ve learned more about chemistry from one album than I did in all of high school,” Bucky rambled from where he and Steve sat against the wall watching the class practice.

“That’s great,” Steve wheezed, adjusting the ice pack that sat over his balls. He’d been hit a little too hard by an overzealous soccer mom. Bucky gave a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Natasha stood before them. She had her arms crossed as she watched the floor. “I can’t remember you _ever_ talking about a person as if they were an actual human with their own interests before. Especially when you’re dating them,” she said without bothering to turn around. Clint was walking around correcting people here and there. It wasn’t his job, but Nat forced him to do it whenever he sprained something after losing a fight to her.

“That’s not true!” Bucky argued.

“Really?” Natasha smirked. “Tell me anything unique about any of your other coworkers.”

“I… I haven’t worked there that long!”

“It’s been months.”

“I know about—”

“We don’t count. Obviously.”

“I knew plenty about my exes!” Bucky changed tactics.

“Only the things about them that carried from one girl to the next.”

“Shirley played violin.”

“So did Moira and Bianca.”

Bucky turned to Steve for help, but the man just shrugged, wincing a little as he squeak-spoke, “She’s got a point.”

“Fuck you guys.” Bucky huffed and dropped his head back against the wall, arms folded and pouting.

“Despite you disrupting my class for this shit, I think it’s a good thing.” Natasha pointed at someone and shouted, “Elbows up!” before continuing. “Maybe you can use this as a learning experience and grow as a person.”

“I liked him,” Steve choked out and groaned as he lifted his bag of ice. “Kinda quiet, but he was polite.”

Bucky’s stomach churned with now familiar shame. “He actually talks a lot, usually too fast for me to keep up. Him being quiet was my fault.”

Steve looked sympathetic and opened his mouth to automatically deny Bucky’s role in the whole mess, but Nat cut him off before he could. “I’m glad you figured that out. You’re such an asshole to whoever you’re dating.”

“Well, you coulda said something, then!” Bucky snapped, both annoyed at being called an ass and angry that Peter’s issues had been ignored by his friends.

“I have said, but you never listen. Scott! If I see you slouching again, I’ll strap you to a 2x4! Anyways, it’s not my job to fix your fuckups. You’re the kind that has to lick an outlet to learn not to do it.”

Steve snorted, and Bucky glared at them both. He wished that he could argue, but it would all be lies if he did, and they were all aware of it. Peter really didn’t deserve to deal with Bucky’s issues, but if that meant he dated someone else instead… Well, Bucky was also too selfish to encourage that, so he may as well see this through and do his best.

“Listen, I don’t wanna ruin things again,” Bucky said in a far more timid voice than he wanted. “So, like, ya know, if you see Peter struggling or being unhappy or something, then let me know.”

“You think he’ll come back around?” Steve asked. His voice was still strained, but he sounded better. His face didn’t look nearly so pinched with pain anymore.

“I hope he does.”

“Then maybe don’t throw the nerd into the jock’s deep end,” Natasha suggested. “You can tell he’s not the athletic type, and it was clear he hated crowds.”

“So what’s something we can do that’s quiet?” Bucky asked, genuinely at a loss.

“Board games?” Steve suggested but immediately ducked his head in reflex of his old embarrassment about that hobby. “Or something.”

“Actually…” Bucky tilted his head as he thought about the shelving unit full of game boxes in Peter’s bedroom. “I think he likes board games. I saw a bunch of them, but I didn’t recognize any of them.”

“I’d put money on him owning Settlers of Catan,” Nat said, and Steve snorted with amusement.

“Settlers of what?” Bucky asked, looking between the two of them.

“We should start with something simpler,” Steve said.

“Whatever we play, I’m teaming up with Peter to wipe the floor with all of you,” Nat responded without remorse. She never was one to take it easy just because someone was new to something. “Scott! You keep that up and you’ll get your ass kicked by a blind man!”

“Rude!” Matt shouted from somewhere in the class.

“Specifically _that_ blind man!” Natasha amended.

“Does this mean you guys are up for hanging out and playing board games?” Bucky asked.

“Sure.” Nat shrugged.

“I’d love to,” Steve said with an encouraging smile and a shuffling of his ice pack.

“We can use Clint’s place,” Natasha offered.

“I heard that!” Clint called from across the room.

“No you didn’t, you deaf liar!” Natasha shouted back, mostly for the benefit of those in the class. “Clean your house. You’ll have company soon.”

Clint grumbled, Natasha yelled at Scott, Matt complained that it was too noisy, Steve peeked inside his shorts and winced at the bruising he found, the soccer mom pretended she didn’t notice, and Bucky smiled to himself. Perhaps the first impression of Bucky’s friends hadn’t been all that great for Peter, but this time it would work out for sure!

~*~

Peter paled. “Your friends?”

“Minus Sam. I said he wasn’t invited. He’s Steve’s friend, anyways. We don’t get along. Tony may or may not be there. He sucks at remembering plans most of the time.”

That didn’t appear to make Peter feel reassured. He shoved his hands between his knees and stared at the sandwich on his plate. The light from the cafe windows lit up highlights in his hair, making it shine copper. He was so handsome like that.

“Aren’t your friends going to be mad at me?” Peter asked, snapping Bucky out of his admiration.

“What? No! Definitely not. They like you.” Bucky smiled, but Peter just frowned harder at his rye bread and curled his shoulders in more. “I’m serious. Natasha even called me an asshole.”

Peter’s eyebrows crashed together. “Is that normal for friends?”

“I mean, yeah? I guess. Who else is gonna tell you that you’re being an asshole if not your friends?”

“Hm.” Peter shuffled around in his seat a little before one hand reappeared to pick off bits of crust from his sandwich. “And you really want to play board games?”

“Well, you had a lot I’ve never seen before. Just pick one that everyone can keep up with. Some of them looked complicated.” As much as Bucky wanted to do something Peter would like, he was mortified at the idea of having to constantly ask what was going on while playing some weird game. He would definitely not look cool _at all_ like that, and Peter would never want to date him then.

“Don’t worry, they’re not that hard.” Peter’s bottom lip stuck out the tiniest bit as he shredded the parsley that garnished his plate. “Maybe it’ll be fun to play with everyone.”

Bucky swore his heart skipped a beat.

~*~

Clint had a big dining room table that took up his entire living room. He claimed that he watched TV in bed and preferred it that way, so he may as well make the best use of the space. Thus, if the group needed a table for all of them, they went to Clint’s apartment.

“But you already have a sword,” Steve argued.

“It’s a singing and dancing sword,” Bucky shot back. “It walks on its own!”

“It doesn’t say that it takes up any part of the body,” Peter pointed at the bottom of the card. “See?”

“Ha!” Bucky cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “You are _not_ getting rid of my rat on a stick. Deal with it.”

“Are you boys done?” Natasha asked, chin in hand as she watched them fight. “I’m trying to win this game.”

“You won’t be in the lead for long,” Bucky promised, though she was already four levels ahead of them.

He honestly hadn’t thought the game would be much fun when it was first presented. “Munchkin” just didn’t inspire confidence when looking for something cool. As it turned out, Bucky was super into it, and the cards were funny. He was having a blast despite the fact that he’d lost the first two rounds.

The colored lights set all around the house began to flicker, catching their attention. Steve hopped up and stuck his cards in his back pocket. “I’ll get it.”

Peter looked around in confusion. “What is that?”

“The doorbell.” Nat jerked her head at Clint. “He’s deaf.”

Peter’s face morphed through stunned to ashamed to worried to betrayed as he turned to look at Bucky. “What the hell? This is the third time I’ve met him, and you never said anything!”

“I didn’t?” If he were honest, it slipped his mind a lot. Usually, he wouldn’t be so concerned over it, but he was trying to do things right with Peter. Obviously, he was still falling short. His posture drooped into something resembling a kicked puppy, and he was only mildly ashamed of that. “Sorry.”

Peter’s face turned bright red, and Bucky winced. Shit. Peter was livid.

“It’s fine,” Clint grunted. “I can hear noises, I just can’t process that into words most of the time. As long as I can see your lips, I know what you’re saying.”

“Oh. Um. I’ll remember that.” Peter said, turning back to Clint while still looking uncomfortable.

“And don’t mumble,” Nat advised. “You can’t see your lips moving when you do that.”

“Sorry!” Peter fidgeted in his chair, but the moment was thankfully interrupted by Steve and the hella late Tony entering the room.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it,” Bucky said, jumping at the distraction.

“I was held up,” Tony said with a wave of his hand.

“By how many legs?” Nat drolled, eyebrow raised.

“Three. And no, I’m not explaining. Guess for yourself.” Tony went straight for the fridge. “Who the fuck brought hard lemonade?”

“It tastes good!” Bucky shouted back before Peter had a chance to get upset.

“I want one,” Tony replied, unfazed.

“Um… You can have one,” Peter offered.

Tony nabbed a bottle and then wandered back to the table and fell into a free chair. “What the hell is this?”

“Munchkin,” Steve supplied. He fanned his cards in front of him, curling the edges so Bucky wouldn’t peek.

Tony pulled out his phone and immediately began looking up all the rules and probably all the ways to cheat as well. Which was annoying since the rules stated that cheating was allowed so long as you weren’t caught. The game was nuts.

Natasha handily defeated a Shrieking Geek and then drew a new treasure card. When she set it down, they all looked at the Leather Armor art, then to her, then back to the card. Tony was the idiot that spoke up first.

“Ya know, that card is uncannily—”

“Don’t finish that sentence if you value your balls,” Nat cut in.

“You remember that time in Vegas?”

“There was no time in Vegas.”

“I have a charge on my bank history for Vegas. Two tickets—”

“There was no time in Vegas.”

“I thought it was Steve that went to Vegas with Tony,” Clint mused as he flipped a door card.

When Steve turned red, which really did mean he was blushing with embarrassment. “Wh-what?”

“I bet you looked good in that outfit,” Bucky said with a grin. Steve spluttered but formed no coherent words.

Peter watched them all like he was fascinated with their interactions. Bucky thought back to how Mr. Osborn had so casually mentioned that Peter didn’t have friends. Perhaps Peter would learn how to mingle if he kept hanging out with them. After all, everyone else liked Peter. He just needed to come out of his shell a bit.

Once they finished the round, with Nat winning, they played another with Tony who was far too good at it for his first try. That game came down to a race between the two, both poised to finish first, but Tony desperately tried to sabotage Natasha’s last battle before he had a chance to steal the win.

“Nobody help her fight this!” Tony declared as he slapped down a Wandering Monster.

“Doesn’t that mean you win after I go?” Clint asked.

Natasha turned a pretty smile on Peter. “Think about it. Me or Tony. Who do you want to win?”

Peter’s eyes flicked between them.

“I have money!” Tony declared. “People always do favors for those who have money!”

Peter’s eyebrows rose as he watched Tony puff out his chest. “I’ll help.”

Natasha grinned and sat back in her chair, long legs stretched in front of her and crossed at the ankle. “Then I win unless anyone has something else they’d like to throw.”

Tony argued for a while longer for everyone to join forces against her, but ultimately, all those at the table knew who to support. Natasha won again.

“Such a sweet helper,” Nat cooed. She leaned over and dropped a kiss onto Peter’s cheek.

That. Bitch. Why the hell was she all up in Peter’s business when she knew Bucky and Peter were still working things out? Not even Bucky had been able to get that close with Peter since they agreed to try again. How dare she steal the cheek kiss from him! He should have helped Tony win, damn it.

“What the hell?” Bucky snapped, standing from his seat, one hand shooting out to push her off. She, unsurprisingly, caught his hand and flipped it around before he knew what was happening. In no time, he was pinned to the table, pain radiating up his arm and shooting down his back. “Fuck! Shit! Ow! Let go!”

Nat, like the evil incarnate that she was, turned a sweet smile on Peter. “Want me to teach you this move?”

Peter was staring at her in wide-eyed awe like she was the second coming of Jesus. “Yes.”

“You’re so cute.”

She let Bucky go, and he groaned as he cradled his arm to his chest while sliding off the table. Steve offered a sympathetic pat to his un-wrenched shoulder. Meanwhile, Nat was pulling Peter away from the group and to an open space between the table and balcony.

“If you want to learn more stuff like this, I teach lessons. First class is free.”

Peter looked so invested and excited as Nat took him through some basic self-defense redirects. She was handling him far softer than she did anyone else Bucky had seen her teach. All in all, he couldn’t be mad about it. If the little lesson made Peter feel safer, then hell, Bucky would work out a deal with Nat himself for Peter to take lessons with no charge to him.

“What’s this Red Dragon Inn game?” Tony asked, flipping the box over.

“It’s about drinking and gambling,” Bucky said. “As far as I can tell, anyway.”

“Sounds like my kind of game! Let’s do this one next.”

They drank. They played. They argued. They went home tipsy. Bucky managed to convince Peter to walk together until the subway station before parting ways. The cold wind tugged at their coats as the weather grew closer. The threat of snow hovered in the air, but it would be a few weeks before the city saw any.

“Do you think they liked me?” Peter suddenly asked.

“Who?”

He shrugged. “All of them.”

“I told you, they already liked you.” Bucky offered a warm smile. “Everybody had fun tonight. We don’t usually think to play board games, so it was a great change.”

“Natasha was really nice,” Peter mused.

 _Only to you,_ Bucky thought. “Yeah, she likes you too much. I better remind her that you’re gay.” It was unfair how relaxed Peter was around her. And she knew _exactly_ what she was doing every time she flirted with Peter! The witch.

Peter rolled his eyes. “She wasn’t hitting on me.”

“She better not,” Bucky grumbled, though he knew that was unfair. His mile-wide crush had nothing to do with the objective to become friends with Peter, but he couldn’t help feeling insanely jealous. Typically, he wasn’t the jealous type. Peter was unique because he’d proved that none of Bucky’s usual tricks were enough to stick around for.

Bucky had no idea how to romance Peter, and that was scary.

“So you think you might want to hang out with everyone again?” Bucky asked, the hope clear in his voice. “Not right away, I mean. Just, sometime, ya know. Like if it rains out a paintball game or something.”

Peter tucked his shoulders up around his ears. “Yeah… Sure… I could do that.”

“Great!” Bucky had to rein in his excitement so he wasn’t shouting, but it did nothing to diminish the smile on his face. “Great. I look forward to it.”

“Me, too,” was said so soft that Bucky almost thought he’d imagined it.

~*~

Bucky was bored. He sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what he could do. It was a cold Saturday after the first snowfall of the season. Clint and Nat were out of town for some event while Tony, Steve, and Sam were kicking it at Tony’s penthouse. Usually, Bucky was the first to jump on the opportunity to take advantage of Tony’s hospitality, but he was still angry at Sam, so he opted to stay home.

Which was a bad choice. He wasn’t used to just sitting at the apartment doing nothing. He could kill time at the gym maybe…

Pulling out his phone, he tapped on his text messages. He hadn’t texted Peter too much since The Incident, not wanting to look needy, but maybe he could try and up their contact a little more. Just a _little_ bit more than he texted Steve. That would be fine, right?

 **-** hey

Bucky nodded, proud of himself. _That should do it._ Now he just had to wait on a response.

It took longer than he wanted, but Peter had always been a slow texter — probably because he spelled everything out. It was weird but kinda cute. Maybe Bucky should teach Peter how to use text speak. It was faster to type like that. And emojis were fun!

 **+** Hello.

Bucky snorted at the formal looking text.

 **-** wyd

 **+** I’m at the park taking pictures.

 **-** which park??

 **+** Central.

 **-** cool

 **-** can I meet u?

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip. Did that sound needy? He really just wanted to spend time together… which was totally needy. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Peter was probably busy and—

 **+** Sure, if you want to. Just text me when you get here.

“Score!” Bucky bounced his way off the bed with glee and ransacked his dresser for clothes. He needed something fairly nice since this was an impromptu date. Sorta. Well, even if it didn’t count, he should still look nice. Dress to impress!

In no time at all, he was out the door and catching the subway to get him to Central Park. He was practically vibrating out of his skin. Had he ever been this excited just to meet up with someone? Peter had always been different — from the beginning. There was just something special about him.

Man, Bucky hoped he didn’t fuck this up.

It wasn’t all that hard to find Peter once arriving at the park. Bucky just checked out the places he thought would have the nicest scenery. Sure enough, Peter was there, camera propped on a low stone wall, taking pictures of a pond and the smattering of snow around it. Bucky softened his steps and snuck closer, enjoying the concentration on Peter’s face as he fiddled with settings and placement for the perfect shot.

When Bucky was close enough, he leaned forward and whispered, “Boo.”

Peter jumped and turned with wide eyes. “Oh! H-hey. You should have texted me.”

Bucky grinned. “It’s okay. I found you anyways.”

“I guess…” An almost smile pulled at Peter’s lips as he turned back to the water. “The sun hitting the surface is perfect, and I like lens flares, but I can’t get the right angle for it. I keep getting overexposed which whites out the whole shot. If I change the angle too much, then I’ll lose the color balance I want with the trees, though.”

“I see, I see.” Bucky didn’t. At all. But that didn’t matter since he loved listening to Peter talk about things like this.

“So I’ve just been waiting. If the sun shifts a bit more, then maybe I can get the shot right.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great. You’re good at this.”

Peter ducked his head, fingers fiddling with the strap of his camera. “It’s just a hobby.”

Bucky hopped up to sit on the low wall as Peter made minute changes to the angle of the lens. It was getting easier between them to just be in each other’s presence. Peter was often still nervous and unsure, but Bucky was fairly certain that had more to do with being unused to hanging out with friends rather than Bucky himself.

Or so he hoped.

“I still want to get a few shots of the bridges. Maybe some of them in black and white. I have a setting on here for that, and I don’t use it often enough.”

“Take your time. There’s no rush.” Bucky assured.

Peter pursed his lips, eyes focused on the display. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“I was the one that wanted to come,” Bucky teased, swinging his legs as he watched people pass by.

“Don’t you usually have plans on the weekends?”

“I try to, which is why I was going stir-crazy at home. Honestly, being out here with you is a life saver.”

“Is that so?” That almost smile was back on Peter’s face, though he stayed invested in the scenery. He snapped a bunch of pictures in a row before hitting some buttons and doing it again.

“Did you get your shot?” Bucky asked.

“I think so.” Peter’s face said he was extremely pleased with himself as he snapped a few more for good measure. “This new SD card lets me take as many as I want, so at least I’ll have options.”

Just then, a toy glider plane flew right by their heads, causing them both to duck. The wind caught it, sending it straight up to tangle in the limbs of a nearby tree. A little girl came running after it, clearly upset now that she couldn’t retrieve it. She stopped directly under the tree and pouted at it.

“That’s shit luck,” Bucky said low enough that the kid wouldn’t hear him curse. “Maybe the wind will knock it back down.”

Peter frowned, looking between the tree and the little girl as if he was incapable of not intervening. “Hey, look after my camera. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for a response, Peter jogged over, offering the kid a thumbs up before jumping up and grabbing a tree limb.

Bucky watched with rapt attention as Peter hefted himself from limb to limb, his small frame bending the wood, but not dangerously so like it would have if Bucky had attempted it. With an ease that Bucky never would have guessed possible, Peter managed to climb halfway up the tree and scoot himself far enough to grab the little plane and launch it back into the air.

The little girl jumped up and down, giggling shrilly as she took off after it, yelling her thanks. Peter waved to her and the mother not far off. Bucky was grinning like a loon. That was by far the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Peter didn’t immediately hop down. Instead, he looked out over the water, a content smile growing on his face as he braced himself on the limb he sat on, hands crossed in front of him, leaning slightly forward, one leg dangling, another braced on a lower limb. The sun hit his hair, making it shine, while small branches cast a web of shadows over his face. The wind plucked at his clothes and the skyscrapers of NYC provided a backdrop, making it look as though he soared between the buildings.

Looking down, Bucky noticed that Peter was well within view of the camera’s lens. Bucky hit the button, taking a few shots, before picking it up and slinging the strap over his neck. He made his way over to the tree, raising the camera up and snapping a few more, though he knew nothing about how to adjust the settings. They definitely wouldn’t be as good as Peter’s shots, but apparently, the SD card had plenty of room for his whims, and how could he pass up such an opportunity?

Peter looked down and caught Bucky in the act. “What are you doing with my camera?”

“Bird watching.”

“Ha!” Peter snorted, a full grin taking over his face. Bucky snapped a few more pictures and prayed that Peter wouldn’t delete them before Bucky could get his hands on them.

“You gonna stay up there?”

“I might.” Peter laughed, and it was an amazing sound. He lifted one hand up to brace against the limb above him before sitting up higher to look around the rest of the park from his vantage point. “It’s got quite the view.”

“Well, if you move in, you’ll have to fight the squirrels for your territory, I imagine.”

“You have a point.”

“But if you win, you could forever be known as Squirrel Boy.”

“I would definitely not pick that as a superhero name,” Peter said, matter of fact. “Watch your head, I’m coming down.”

Peter made climbing down from the tree look easier than climbing up it. He effortlessly bounced from surface to surface, almost as if he could stick to it, and dropped to the ground in no time. Perhaps Peter wasn’t a sports fan, but he acted as if he’d taken classes in some kind of gymnastics — or maybe parkour. At any rate, Bucky was smitten.

After dusting himself off, Peter walked over and lifted the camera strap from Bucky’s neck to place it around his own. It was so casually intimate, that Bucky’s heart picked up in pace. Peter hesitated when it came to taking hold of the camera itself, but ultimately, his cold fingers slid across Bucky’s own as he took the heavy item back into his hands. Not looking up, but also not moving away, Peter turned the small screen to himself and began clicking through the new pictures.

“Not half bad for a beginner.”

“I had the perfect subject matter,” Bucky replied, voice quickly becoming husky.

The winter winds bit at Peter’s face, reddening his cheeks, and adding a layer to the shy posture that had Bucky swooning. “Yes, well…” Peter cleared his throat. “Central Park is always ideal for photography.”

“So are you.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers gripping tighter at the edges of his camera. He still didn’t look up. “You don’t have to say things like that—”

“I want to.” Bucky gave into temptation and brushed the backs of his fingers along Peter’s cheek until the man looked up, face nervous, brown eyes glowing in the bright winter sunlight. “I mean it, Pete. You look amazing.”

Peter’s lips parted, but nothing came out for a long while. Eyes blowing wide, Peter finally said, “Oh.”

Bucky was leaning in before he could stop himself. He’d been craving Peter for so long. Being so close now was testing his resolve. Those lips called to him stronger than they ever had before. It took everything in him to stop before their noses touched.

“Sorry,” Bucky whispered. “You’re just so… And I… I just…”

“Fuck it,” Peter murmured before surging forward and locking their lips together.

It took Bucky by surprise for only a moment before the fingers of one hand were sinking into Peter’s wild curls, his other arm wrapping around that slim waist. Peter’s wrists locked behind Bucky’s neck. The hard press of the camera between them went unnoticed, as Bucky’s entire focus was on how perfect Peter fit in his arms and the warmth that radiated where they touched.

Peter licked into Bucky’s mouth first, aggressive now that he’d made his choice. His fingers twisted into Bucky’s hair and jacket, tugging hard and insistent. So of course, Bucky was melting into it, giving into anything Peter demanded. It felt amazing. Overwhelming. Perfect.

When at last they broke apart, their rapid breathing fogging the air and leaving them in a surreal haze of their own personal world, Bucky’s mouth blurted what he’d been desperately trying to keep in for so long. “Please date me.”

“Um.” Peter hesitated. It was clear he didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t look bothered by the idea, at least.

“I’ll do it right this time, I swear. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I’ll prove it. Let me take you on a date.”

Wind cut through them, sending Peter’s wild hair into motion. It danced around his face as he offered a tiny smile. “Okay.”

Bucky’s face nearly split in two when he grinned, wrapped his arms around Peter’s middle, and spun them around in joy. It startled a squeak out of Peter, and Bucky laughed in excitement. Peter had at last blessed Bucky with a second chance.

~*~

Bucky started out slow. He wanted to play it safe with Peter. No guesswork. No surprises. They had a few dinner dates, usually taking a walk through the park afterwards or, if the weather was bad, heading back to Peter’s place to watch a movie. When Thanksgiving rolled by and Bucky left to visit his family, they even shared a few video call dates.

Physically, things progressed slowly. They kissed and occasionally made out, with one loopy late-night handjob thrown in. If they were at Peter’s place, Bucky refused to make the first move, terrified of reminding Peter about what had almost happened between them in the past. For the most part, Peter was comfortable with cuddling and kissing. Perhaps more so than Bucky, who didn’t have a lot of experience when it came to guys.

The first time Bucky laid out on the couch and propped his head in Peter’s lap, it was amazing. He was usually the one to dote on his girlfriends, allowing them to lay all over him as he did the pampering. Peter hadn’t hesitated to take over that role, running fingers through Bucky’s hair and massaging the scalp until Bucky was in his own little world, movie forgotten.

There were definite upsides to dating a dude.

But that didn’t mean Bucky would get complacent. He wanted to really show how far he was willing to go to make things right. Since Peter had been through things he hated for their previous “dates,” Bucky thought it only fair that he do the same. However, he’d actually been enjoying most of the things they’d done, which was an amazing feeling. He’d never expected things to work out so well between them.

So, he had a plan to really step outside his comfort zone at the geekiest thing he could find.

There was a Dungeons & Dragons event happening that Bucky decided was the perfect payback date. It would last a few hours and everyone would be broken into groups for something called a “basic dungeon crawl.” There were instructions on how to build a new character for the event. Bucky was dedicated, so he’d spent a good four hours making his character and setting up a badass backstory. It was actually pretty fun.

Peter was surprised to hear of Bucky’s plans but was willing to go. He even looked a bit excited when Bucky had proposed the idea during lunch.

“Have you ever played before?” Peter asked, scrolling through the event information on his phone.

“I haven’t, but it said new players are welcome.” Bucky felt confident that he could manage. He hadn’t had trouble with any of Peter’s other board games.

“Mm.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed. “Well, it says they provide some pre-made characters.”

Bucky grinned. He would astound everyone with the character he worked so hard to build himself even though he was new. Peter would definitely be impressed. This was going to turn out perfectly!

And so the big day arrived.

They met at the community center that was hosting the event. Peter looked geek chic with his DC shirt and button-up on top, the strap from a messenger bag crossing his chest. Bucky couldn’t stop sneaking peeks as they walked into the big room filled with tables. There were a few decorations up, but mostly, it felt pretty lackluster in his opinion.

When they signed in at the welcome table by the door, a strange man with blue skin, pointy ears, and a pirate’s outfit accosted Peter. “Look who’s here! Someone must have kidnapped you away from work and gaming.”

Peter grinned wider than Bucky had ever seen, which left behind an uncomfortable pang of jealousy. “Kurt! It’s so good to see you!” They hugged, and Bucky _really_ didn’t like that.

When they pulled back, Peter admired the over-the-top (but amazingly crafted, Bucky hated to admit) costume. “This is amazing. Is it new?”

“Well, it’s redone — based on a favorite D&D character of my own creation, as you do. Tiefling, of course.” He twirled and posed. A huddle of women further away giggled and Kurt winked at them. “I was brought in to help so I could encourage the ladies to show up.”

“I’m not surprised.” Peter shook his head, amused but indulgent. “Are you DMing?”

“I am!” Kurt threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder and leaned in _way_ too close. “Maybe I can pull some strings and be the dungeon master for my favorite robin.” The way he said the words “dungeon master” made them sound dirty.

Peter giggled. He fucking _giggled._ And he looked bashful as hell. Bucky loudly cleared his throat, making Peter jump and Kurt look up with a lazily raised eyebrow.

“O-oh! Kurt, this is Bucky. We came here on a gamer date.”

Kurt melted off of Peter and pressed close to Bucky with a smile. Needless to say, Bucky had no idea how to handle the sudden attention. “Well, aren’t you tall and buff?” He ran a single blue finger down the center of Bucky’s chest.

One of the girls in the distance made a choked wheezing noise. Bucky glanced over to find their eyes riveted on the scene Kurt was making. “Uh?”

“Putting on a good show makes for dedicated fans,” Kurt answered with a wink. “Why don’t you boys mingle and find a party while I greet the other guests?” Without waiting for a response, Kurt walked away, arm in the air as he called to someone new, “Bruce! Lovely seeing you again.”

Bucky turned a baffled look to Peter who gave an apologetic shrug. “He’s a cosplayer. He has a pretty big following online, so he sees every opportunity as a means to promote himself. He’s a nice guy, though.”

“Why did he call you a robin?”

Peter winced. “We first got to know each other at a con when I was cosplaying as Robin. You know, Batman-and-Robin Robin. He’s used it as a nickname ever since.” Peter walked further into the room, heading towards a group of people who were trading character sheets and talking animatedly.

Bucky followed like a lost puppy. “Did you two—”

“Have sex?” Peter asked as if it were a normal thing. Bucky was going to say “date” though they both knew that implied exactly what Peter had just said. “Yes. Cons can get a little wild. That was years ago, though.” There was a pause before Peter stopped walking and turned, pinning Bucky in place with a hard look. “Is it a problem?”

“I—” Bucky swallowed. Acting possessive and jealous was never a good look. Normally he wasn’t this bad, but he had no confidence when it came to Peter. Kurt was handsome, charming, and knew about this world in a way Bucky didn’t. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what a cosplayer was or why Kurt had fans. “No. We both have exes.”

“We do,” Peter agreed. He turned and resumed his route. Bucky knew he’d given the right answer and knew it was a reasonable statement, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

Things didn’t improve after that. Peter was in his element, discussing character classes and race with ease, things that Bucky only had a passing knowledge of at best. He couldn’t even ask, as most of the people around him refused to talk to him or made excuses to walk away. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He’d never been so blatantly snubbed before. Usually, he was the life of the party.

The only person willing to have a conversation with him was an extremely friendly but weird guy who was also dressed in costume. He refused to give any other name but “Thor” and spoke in the most ridiculous manner. Despite all that, he was happy to talk to Bucky and explain why people were being picky about who was joining which party.

“A band of warriors against the darkness must be balanced, friend Bucky. Will you choose the needed profession for your party at thine welcome table?”

“I made my own character, actually.”

Peter broke off mid-conversation with someone to look at Bucky in surprise. “You did?”

“Where is it?” the other person, Robert (if Bucky remembered correctly), asked with a barely contained sneer.

Bucky was instantly annoyed and pulled his character sheet from his back pocket and unfolded it. “It’s right here.”

Robert groaned and rolled his eyes as the guy beside him pulled a face.

Even Peter winced. “It’s only one game. It’s fine if your paper is a little beaten up.” Those nearby grumbled begrudging agreements.

It was only then that Bucky noticed how clean and crisp all the other papers were. Some people had even printed them on cardstock. Was there some secret code about keeping character sheets in mint condition? How was Bucky supposed to know that?

“Worry not, friend!” Thor said, slapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “So long as yon scroll can be surveyed, the darkness shall be defeated!”

Bucky frowned and fiddled with the folded seams of his paper, trying to smooth them out as Peter made connections. At last, their group came together with [Robert](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Robert_Frank_\(Earth-616\)) being a Paladin, [David](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/David_Alleyne_\(Earth-616\)) being a wizard, Bruce a bard, Thor a barbarian, and Peter a ranger. It was agreed that it was a balanced group no matter what Bucky chose, which was annoying. At least nobody else was using his class.

Together, they picked a table and did a brief introduction to their characters. Bucky didn’t pay much attention to anyone but Peter, who was an elf, specialized in long-distance attacks, and had a serious and quiet personality. Bucky went last. It was for the best, as it was his time to shine. He had a killer backstory!

“I’m a ranger who—”

“What race?” Robert interrupted.

“Human,” Bucky said. He figured that was obvious since he hadn’t picked anything else. The entire table stared at him.

“No, really,” David pushed. “What race?”

“Uhhh…” Bucky looked around at everyone. “White?”

Robert groaned, overly loud. David and Bruce shook their heads. Thor was valiantly unperturbed. Peter was the worst, as he looked pained and embarrassed.

“It’s his first time playing,” Peter defended.

“Then he should have taken one of the pre-mades!” Robert argued. “He’s gonna be absolutely useless.”

“That’s not true!” Bucky defended, anger and shame warring in his chest. “I have a lot of points in Intelligence and Charisma, so—”

“Why the fu—” David started but was cut off by Bruce.

“Those won’t be as helpful in a dungeon crawl. I learned that the hard way, too.” He looked at David and Robert who were still making faces. “Everyone has a starting point.”

“Some of us read the book,” Robert muttered.

Thor let out a loud and booming laugh that had everyone at the table flinching and cursing in surprise. “We shall charm thoust greatest enemy!”

“Thoust?” Bruce whispered, baffled.

To make a bad time worse, Kurt strutted over to their table. “Good day to you, players!” He gave them all a pearly white grin. “And congratulations! I shall be your dungeon master.”

The girls at the far end of the room openly whined in disappointment as Kurt took his seat at the head of the table with flare. He pulled things from a box on the floor and began setting up. Everyone else pulled personal items out as well, including dice, tiny mats, and small figurines. Thor had one that looked exactly like his costume.

“Does anyone need a mini?” Kurt asked.

“I do,” Bruce said and glanced over to Bucky.

“Me too.” It felt strangely like defeat to admit it. He was provided with a plastic, unpainted rogue miniature.

“We ran out of dice since there are far more new players here today than normal.” Kurt looked smug, as if he’d somehow done that all by himself. Well, _Bucky_ certainly hadn’t come to see Kurt.

“I bought some,” Bruce said.

David turned to Bucky. “You don’t have any, do you?” It sounded both resigned and annoyed.

“Can’t I just roll someone else’s?” Bucky snapped back, tired of the way he was being treated.

“You can’t just touch other people’s dice—” Robert started on what sounded like a long tirade, but Peter jumped in that time.

“He can have my backup.” Peter pulled another box from his messenger bag and handed it to Bucky.

“Your backup,” David said, voice flat. “You mean your cursed dice.”

Peter frowned but didn’t deny it. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Wow, you guys sure are superstitious.”

Before anyone could argue back, Thor did his loud laugh again, effectively silencing everyone until he stopped. Kurt jumped in first to take control of the table, which he was surprisingly good at. It annoyed Bucky to no end.

Things tumbled relentlessly downhill as the game progressed. Bucky was bored by people’s too-long description of their actions and annoyed at how people frowned over his succinct decisions. Every time he tried to do something cool, he was shut down by the others and told it wasn’t possible, lecturing about how many feet away he was from things and how fast he could move. It also felt like everyone was taking more turns than him somehow.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a trap in this room,” David said at one point.

“Well if our _rogue_ could use Perception, maybe we could avoid it,” Robert grumbled.

“I have Perception! I want to use it,” Bucky turned to Kurt who smiled peacefully in return.

“Go ahead and roll.”

Bucky looked down at the collection of dice in front of him. “Um…”

Robert rolled his eyes. Peter pointed out the die to use. Upset and angry, Bucky aggressively shook the die in his hand and threw it down. It bounced and arced onto the dungeon tiles that took up most of the table. When it rattled to a stop, the number one pointed up at the ceiling.

Kurt barely managed to stifle a laugh. “The rogue has run into a cobweb and is temporarily blinded.”

Thor roared with laughter. “I wish to help yonder friend to see hitherforth!”

“Don’t waste a turn on him,” Robert argued. “We’re going to need it for whatever happens next.”

Bucky clenched his fists under the table and did his best to stay calm. He hated this game. He hated the people playing and the way they treated him and how unfair it was that nobody complained about Bruce being new but bashed Bucky for it. He hated that Peter was trying to take care of Bucky and that it made little difference.

He hated how lame he looked in front of everyone — especially with Kurt sitting there with his smarmy pirate smile.

Fucking Jack Sparrow Blue Man Group wannabe lovechild.

The whole game was three hours of hell in which Bucky died and everyone else barely defeated the creature at the end but blamed Bucky for their struggles. The fact that Bruce and Thor were doing their best to be nice the entire time didn’t help. It felt like he was being talked down to, like he was too stupid to get it, which David and Robert had no problem speaking outloud.

Though Kurt kept his thoughts well hidden, Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He was definitely being judged. Kurt would probably make a move on Peter later. _“Why stick around with that idiot? Let’s go have fun. We can dress up and have kinky nerd sex.”_

Bucky had never felt so looked down on in his life. Dungeons & Dragons could suck his dick.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone after the game and hated how much he disliked Peter trading contact info with their party. He should be happy that Peter was making friends, but considering how much he loathed everything about the experience, it felt like Peter just didn’t care about Bucky’s mistreatment.

Thor was hoarse by the end of the game from yelling, but he was still happy to make friends with everyone, including Bucky. Though he relented to getting Thor’s phone number, he really didn’t want to contact the guy and be reminded of the worst day of his dating life. He was also insulted that Thor was the only one who made any attempt to continue being friendly.

Peter practically had to drag them away after, directing a mostly checked out Bucky from the community center and down the streets until they found a tiny cafe with a free booth. Bucky frowned at the coffee pressed into his hands. Peter had bought it. He hadn’t bought anything since The Incident, and here Bucky was, allowing it to happen like a jerk.

Maybe they weren’t meant to be together. They came from two completely different worlds and Bucky had no idea how to reconcile it. He never wanted to go to that sort of event again, and he knew Peter loathed sports events. Had Peter felt the same way at the sports bar as Bucky was feeling now? Nobody should ever go through that for anything.

How were they even supposed to be a decent couple when they hated the things that made the other happy? Especially the things that formed connections and brought about new friends? Friends who would be stuck with one side of the couple and never cross to the other.

That wasn’t how relationships worked.

“Some players can be a little too serious,” Peter said. “I should have considered that and warned you. I just thought they’d be better at a game that invites new players.”

“It wasn’t that,” Bucky muttered at his drink. “They knew I didn’t belong there. They hated me.”

“Nobody hated you. Maybe you reminded them of a jock they didn’t like, but that has nothing to do with you personally.”

Bucky paused before he blurted. “We’re two different people.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and went silent. Bucky didn’t bother looking up as he continued.

“I know this is my fault for pushing things. You said yourself that we didn’t know anything about each other—”

“Don’t put this on me,” Peter suddenly snapped. “So you decided you’re over me because I don’t fit the vision you wanted? You promised not to do that!”

“What? No!” Bucky looked up into Peter’s red face and blazing eyes. “I like you! But how is this supposed to work when we don’t work? I liked all of the new stuff we did, but today made it clear that not everything will be like that. And you already hate the stuff I do, and I thought that was fine. I owed you that. And I thought I could do this. I thought I could pay you back by going someplace that _I_ might not like, but it was way more than that. I can’t do that again. And I can’t make you do something like that for me.”

Peter’s jaw was tense. He blew a harsh breath out of his nose. “Didn’t you say that your ex-girlfriends complained about exactly this mentality? Why the fuck does it matter if we have hobbies that the other doesn’t like or want to be involved in?”

“But—”

“I have a life, Bucky. I’m not a completely different person just because I’m in a relationship, and I don’t want you to be either. That’s not healthy. You have things that you like doing either on your own or with your friends. So do I! So go watch a football game, and I’ll go raiding on World of Warcraft. It’s fine. Why does this matter?”

Bucky dropped his eyes back to the steam coming from his coffee. “I want us to get along.”

“I thought we did.” Peter was so, so mad, and Bucky felt completely unbalanced.

He’d had this conversation before. Usually, it was when his girlfriends were breaking up with him. “I want to have my own life,” was said over and over by woman after woman. Bucky had always assumed that meant he didn’t fit into their lives, but that wasn’t what Peter was saying.

“Do you even know what you want out of a relationship?” Peter demanded.

“I just want us to be happy with each other—”

“That’s not a real answer, and you know it.” Peter huffed and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, staring off into the distance. “I trusted you. I didn’t want to do this only for you to decide that I’m too weird or nerdy or boring, and you insisted that wouldn’t happen.”

“I don’t think that!”

“I don’t know what you think because you’re quoting what you’re convinced that you should say instead of actually telling me what you need. You haven’t been open about anything since that first day you asked to be friends. _I don’t know what you want_.”

Bucky hated being vulnerable, but Peter had yet to hurt him for it. Then again, it had been special circumstances when he’d spewed his guts that night. They’d both tip-toed around each other. Bucky supposed now was a perfect time to prove to himself — and Peter — that speaking the truth only ended with him getting hurt.

“I can’t be everything that you want no matter how hard I try. Hell, I can’t even be everything that you _need._ I don’t want to fall in love with you only for you to decide later that you can’t stand being around me.” He did his best to speak that with any amount of confidence, but it came out soft and hurt. It had always been his greatest fear, one that came to fruition with every past relationship, and now there it was, laid bare for Peter to see the truth and pass judgement.

Peter let out a long sigh and Bucky cringed. It felt like an ice pick straight through his chest. His stomach churned and suddenly the coffee smelled nauseating. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have kept his mouth shut and let Peter break up with him without ever having to discuss it further. This was a terrible idea.

It hurt when Peter stood up from his side of their two-person booth. Bucky closed his eyes, not wanting to watch Peter walk away. Which was why he jumped when he felt something solid push into him and force him into the wall. He looked over to see Peter squishing himself into the tiny space provided as the seat was certainly not big enough to fit the both of them.

Peter sat there, precariously, staring until Bucky made reluctant eye contact before speaking. “Even when I thought you were bullying me, you were still the nicest bully I ever had.”

“Is that a compliment?” Bucky squeaked.

“Look, I have a really high tolerance for annoying people considering what my life has been. That said, you don’t annoy me. By all rights, you should, but you don’t. You’ve been the most considerate person I’ve ever dated, and that means a lot to me. Further, I have never, ever expected a single person to fulfill all my needs. That’s ridiculous. Even though you can’t do everything for me, that doesn’t mean I like you any less.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “You like me?”

“Yes,” Peter said without hesitation. “I like you. In fact, I would like you more if we could work on this,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “together, instead of you trying to change yourself to fit what you think it is that I want.”

Peter reached out and took Bucky’s hand, threading his long fingers from both hands through Bucky’s own. “I can be happy knowing that you went out and had fun somewhere. That you made new friends and enjoyed something without me. Seeing you smile and be excited _should_ make me happy if we’re dating, and, you know, it does. Isn’t it the same for you?”

“It is!” Bucky insisted. He loved to watch Peter smile and gain confidence and be eagerly invested in something (even if Bucky didn’t understand it).

“Then what’s the problem?” Peter leaned into Bucky. “It’s okay to be upset about what happened today. It’s okay to not like something. Why does that have to be the end of the world? The end of us?”

“I…” Bucky looked down at their twined hands and back up. “I guess I’m still stuck on you hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Peter raised his eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I _just_ said that I liked you.”

“I like you a lot,” Bucky said, voice soft from how struck dumb he was.

“Good,” Peter said with a smile. “Don’t forget that again. We didn’t go through everything that we have just for you to run away now. I got all attached, and that’s your fault. So suck it up.”

A smile spread across Bucky’s face, lighting him up and filling him with something warm and soft. He leaned forward, and Peter smirked as their lips came together. They shuffled around on the small seat until they were a tangle of limbs, kissing, laughing, and hanging on each other like idiots. People stared, but as far as Bucky was concerned, they were just jealous.

After all, he had the best boyfriend in the whole world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LONG LAST, this ends the emotional arc between them. That went FAR LONGER than expected. I still have a scene in mind, though, so next chapter will be a smutty bonus. Enjoy.


	3. The Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus smut! Tags for this chapter: awkward sex, blow jobs, anilingus, overstimulation, erectile dysfunction

They were at Peter’s after work. Bucky had gone to the gym beforehand so he was freshly showered and dressed in sweatpants and a tank. Peter had also washed up prior to Bucky coming over and changed into pajama pants and a soft shirt. It was perfect attire for cuddling on the couch and binging movies.

Bucky planned on seeing his family for Christmas, so he was spending time with Peter the weekend before. Peter had been pretty nervous about Bucky staying over for the first time. After all, it was supposed to be a full weekend thing: Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. There were no plans other than just being together, so Peter assumed they wouldn’t leave the bed. After all, there was a lot to catch up on when it came to sex.

However, Bucky was far more nervous than Peter ever could have imagined. He was twitchy, his laughter was strained, and he refused to move past cuddling mode even when Peter tried to initiate more. It was as if Bucky had taken a sudden vow of celibacy.

Sometimes Peter still had difficulties reconciling who he used to think Bucky was with who the man was now. He was supposed to be overbearing, demanding, and prefer rough sex. He was supposed to be bending Peter over the edge of the couch and pounding away. There was a part of Peter that likely wouldn’t mind that kind of sex between them, but it was clear Bucky had no such intentions.

In fact, if his current attitude was anything to go by, he had no intentions at all. Would he shove a pillow between them when they went to bed?

Peter tried not to get annoyed by it. After all, Bucky had said multiple times that he liked to take things slow, and it was clear he had anxiety about relationship things not working out perfectly. He was probably afraid that he was a horrible lover and thus terrified of even trying. Of course, he could _talk_ about it and _ask_ Peter what he wanted. If only Bucky weren’t so terrified of communication.

“Bucky,” Peter said, running soothing fingers up and down the man’s arm. He was laying on Bucky’s chest, those big arms around his middle. Usually Bucky was happy to be curled up on Peter and petted, but it was clear he was trying to keep Peter from doing anything untoward. Well, Peter had no qualms about speaking out in his relationships.

“You need something from the kitchen?” Bucky asked, voice only mildly distracted by the movie they were watching.

“Not exactly,” Peter all but singsonged. “I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t we fucked?”

Bucky made a strange, strangled, wheezing noise. Peter calmly waited it out until Bucky found his voice. “Wh-what?”

“It’s okay if you have a low sex drive, I was just wonderi—”

“There’s nothing wrong with my sex drive!” Bucky coughed and lowered his voice. “Everything works fine. I totally want to have sex with you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Bucky sucked in a breath, stalling. His heartbeat was loud and fast enough to feel from where it was pressed against Peter’s back. “I, uh, I just wanted to give you time—”

“Don’t. You know I hate it when people blame me for things I have nothing to do with.”

Bucky’s teeth snapped shut. There was quiet between them for a while. Peter let it be. Sometimes Bucky just needed to process things. So they watched the movie for a while longer, munching on popcorn until the tension in Bucky’s limbs released.

“Sorry,” Bucky whispered.

Peter tilted his head and snuggled into Bucky’s neck a little more. “I just want you to talk to me.”

“I know. I just…”

“Haven’t had good past experiences?” That was playing dirty, all considering, and Peter knew it, but sometimes Bucky required a push. Also, Peter did not, in any capacity, have the patience of a saint when it came to his libido.

And unfortunately, Bucky was hot, as much as he still hated to admit it. He was more than ready to ride that into the sunset.

“I… I get nervous,” Bucky mumbled.

“That’s okay. We can take things slow.” Peter drew random patterns with his fingertips along Bucky’s forearm.

“I, uh…” Bucky swallowed hard, the tension in his muscles increasing again. “I have… _problems_ … when I’m nervous.”

Oh. _Ohhh!_ Okay, Peter understood why Bucky would be reluctant to admit that. Still, the concept had a kind of appeal. A lot of guys hated to take things slow and enjoy the foreplay, even though that was necessary for good sex if anal was going to be involved. So this opened up new doors. No matter what, Bucky would be unable to jump the gun. Peter could explore and tease as much as he wanted.

“Mmm, you mean I could take my time and find every spot on your body that makes you twitch?” Peter turned his head and pressed lips to Bucky’s neck. “I could mark you up with my teeth?” He opened his mouth and showed exactly what he intended.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky moaned, his arms tightening around Peter.

“In fact,” Peter mused as he lazily kissed and nipped his way down Bucky’s neck. “I could take your cock in my mouth and play with it all I wanted and never choke. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Bucky’s breathing kicked up a notch, his hands roaming down to the edge of Peter’s shirt and diving underneath to slide against skin. Peter writhed, showing just how much he appreciated that. However, in doing so, his ass hit something aggressively hard which caused him to pout.

“You’re at full mast,” Peter whined.

Bucky shoved his face into Peter’s hair. “You’re too sexy!”

“I thought me being sexy is what makes you nervous.”

“It comes and goes!”

Peter snorted. “Well, that’s very flattering.” He turned around, straddling Bucky’s hips with a smirk. “Kiss me.”

Bucky complied, eagerly. Peter ran his fingers into Bucky’s hair before twisting and pulling. It always made Bucky’s kisses a little sharper, as he was too soft otherwise. That slight bit of feistiness made it easy to sink into the moment and lose track of time. Peter pressed his hips into Bucky’s over and over, enjoying the feeling of their erections pressing against each other — the slight tease of it.

That was until Bucky’s side of things deflated. Peter pulled back from their kiss and raised an eyebrow. Bucky’s face was as red as he’d ever seen it. “Nervous?”

“Pete,” Bucky wheezed and tucked his head down, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t tease me about this.”

“Shhh,” Peter soothed, sliding his hands to cup Bucky’s face and raise those dark eyes to his. “Everything’s alright, handsome.”

A timid smile pulled at Bucky’s lips. “You think I’m handsome?”

“That was too big of a compliment. It’s going to go to your head,” Peter lamented.

“Too late. I know what you’re thinking now. It’s all over.”

Peter groaned in dismay, but it quickly morphed into something far more sultry and Bucky’s teeth sank into his neck and tugged at the skin. Warm, calloused hands were sliding up his back, gathering the shirt so it could be stripped off. Peter happily tossed the fabric to the side and arched into Bucky’s wandering hands.

“I love watching you,” Bucky whispered, attention rapt on Peter’s movements as he slid fingers down beneath the waistband of the pajama pants to grip Peter’s ass.

“I love your touch,” Peter breathed back and meant it.

He wasn’t inexperienced. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Still, he had never dated the right kind of guys and often found it easy to tumble into bed with a variety of one night stands. It made it easy to misunderstand Bucky’s actions. Peter was accustomed to being fucked hard and left behind as used goods. He expected complaints over wanting romance or seduction or intimacy. For a long time, he’d been forcing himself to believe that was normal and that he was fine with it.

Bucky wasn’t like that. He wanted the romance and was used to doting on his partners. So used to it that the smallest amount of attention in return had him sitting on cloud nine. He preferred intimacy, craved romance, and caved easily to Peter’s seduction. How could Peter not fall for a guy like that?

The world worked in mysterious ways.

Bucky kissed his way along Peter’s neck and shoulders, sliding Peter’s pants off along the way to dig fingers into soft thighs. Peter yanked Bucky’s tanktop off with more force than necessary, yearning for more skin on skin. The offending garment hit their mostly empty popcorn bowl and sent it flying, spilling its contents onto the floor. The two ignored it.

Their focus was only on each other. Their hands were everywhere, scratching, grabbing, caressing. Peter loved this.

Bucky’s big palm slid down the groove of Peter’s groin before sliding over and wrapping around the shaft. Peter moaned and jerked his hips as arousal coiled around him and burned through his veins. Instinct demanded that he fall into the feeling of it and seek out that pleasure, but that was exactly how their last — and only — sexual encounter had ended in a hand job. Peter could not trust Bucky to take the initiative for anything more.

Reluctantly, Peter took hold of Bucky’s wrist to stop the movement. “Not yet.” He smiled into Bucky’s lust slackened face. “Let’s go to bed.”

Nerves overtook Bucky’s expression, but he nodded and followed as Peter pulled them off the couch, ignoring the movie still running on the TV and the mess of popcorn as he led the way down the hall. He spun around when they entered the bedroom and shucked Bucky’s pants and boxers in one swoop, forcing the man to stumble out of them as pushed them toward the bed. Peter crawled up first, never breaking eye contact as he crooked a finger.

“Why are you so much better at this than me?” Bucky complained as he carefully brought his knees up to kneel on the mattress.

“Practice makes perfect,” Peter said as he tugged at Bucky. “Come on. Lay down.”

Bucky did so, his limbs too stiff and eyes too wide. It was endearing in the same way as it was when he was searching for definitions on his phone as Peter talked about work. Usually, Peter didn’t have a fondness for idiots, but Bucky somehow made it cute. Like a particularly clumsy mastiff puppy.

“Relax,” Peter encouraged as he slid his body atop Bucky’s and began to map out the muscles with lingering kisses. Every time Bucky would melt into one, he’d tense right back up, as if he was afraid of losing himself to the feeling of it.

“Um…” Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m not usually in this position.”

Peter propped his chin on Bucky’s abs and looked up the lovely spread of pectorals dusted in fine hair. “Do you not like it?”

“No! I mean, I do, I just—” He took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’m prepared for this.”

Peter tilted his head while his hands played with Bucky’s sides lightly enough to induce a bit of squirming. “Prepared for what? Sex with me? I would hope so.”

“N-no. I mean, ya know…” Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m cool with being the bottom. Just… take it easy on me?” The question ended in a small, high voice.

It took quite a while for Peter’s brain to process that. He pulled himself up so he could look down at Bucky, weight propped on one arm. “I see. And what exactly does being the bottom entail?”

That threw Bucky off. He gave Peter a baffled look. “I mean, ya know, you’re gonna put it, well, put it in me?”

“Mm. Have you done that before?”

Bucky shook his head in rapid little jerks, lips pursed together.

“Then we should probably work up to that and try it later.”

That obviously wasn’t what Bucky expected. His eyebrows crashed together. “You aren’t gonna…”

Peter shook his head. “I was just going to blow you, and if you didn’t pop off too soon, I really like riding cowboy.”

Bucky’s mouth flapped a few times before he found his voice. “But you took control. Doesn’t that mean that you wanted to top? Wait! Are you a power bottom? Is that what that is?”

Peter let his head hang and sighed, desperately trying to compose himself. He knew Bucky was new-ish to gay relationships. He also knew that Bucky had some old school thoughts about how any relationship worked, and that also included how sex worked, apparently.

“You’re regretting this,” Bucky said, voice somewhere between resigned and indignant.

“No,” Peter hurried to say and moved up to leave a soft kiss on Bucky’s lips. “I’m just cursing all the people that taught you the wrong way to have sex.”

“I can have sex just fine!”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Peter sprawled on top of Bucky, using it as a distraction of skin, dicks, and Bucky putting more effort into drawing breath. “I just meant that sex doesn’t have to work only one way. We also don’t have to pick roles like ‘power bottom’ unless we want to. For right now, it’s fine to just explore and find out what works and worry about the rest later.”

“O-oh…” Some of the tension in Bucky relaxed and his arms found their way around Peter’s sides, fingers sliding up to trace the outline of Peter’s spine. “Guys I’d fooled around with before kinda acted like I should just know those things.”

“I’ve met people like that, but you still shouldn’t assume everyone works the same way.” Peter dropped a few more soothing kisses. “What _I_ want is to spend this weekend getting to know how we work together in every way possible. What I _really_ want is to feel your mouth on my cock at some point.”

Bucky bit his lip and groaned deep in his throat, hips pushing up against Peter’s, dick swelling once more. “I’d like that.”

Peter allowed a wicked grin to form on his face. “I’m glad to hear it.” Trailing kisses, Peter moved back down Bucky’s body. “So why don’t you relax and let me enjoy you, hm?”

“Ah!” Bucky squirmed over the bite to his nipple. “Um… Yes. Okay.”

“Good.” Peter hummed to himself as he outlined Bucky’s abs with his tongue and mouthed at the prominent hip bones. His fingers trailed patterns here and there, exploring all that they could, making notes about what Bucky responded to best.

By the time he was kissing his way around Bucky’s groin, the man was a panting, writhing mess. It was hot if he were honest with himself. Peter was rock hard from the sight alone and occasionally had to reach down to squeeze himself for a little relief. He wasn’t the only one. Bucky’s cock stood tall and proud, all thought of nerves obliterated by Peter’s steady exploration.

Bucky’s hands fisted into the sheets when Peter mouthed along the shaft and took the head in his mouth, rolling it around and getting used to the taste. He did a few practice bobs of his head, keeping an eye on how Bucky responded. It became quickly apparent that one of them was not used to blowjobs, and it wasn’t Peter.

Popping off with a lewd slurp, Peter caught Bucky’s eyes. “When was the last time someone went down on you?”

“Um.” Bucky’s face flamed red. “H-high school.”

 _Wooow,_ Peter thought but managed not to say. He grinned. “This will be quite the ride for you, then.”

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky dug his head into the sheets, knees bending as Peter put all his effort into a proper blow job.

It was odd, though. As many people as Bucky had dated, Peter was surprised to realize none of them bothered to go downtown. Then again, Bucky was the kind of person to insist on giving pleasure rather than receiving it. That paired with his nervous condition would mean he was always the one servicing. Well, it worked out for Peter.

For an added benefit, Peter slicked up two fingers with spit and then dove down to rub on Bucky’s entrance, just enough to stimulate it as he didn’t want to push things right now. Bucky reacted like he’d been struck by lightning, jolting and choking on air, his hips unsure if they wanted to chase the feeling or run away.

“Shhh,” Peter soothed as he came up from air. “It’s alright. Only this for right now.”

Bucky nodded rapidly, a breathy plea for more escaping from his lips. Fuck, that was hot. Peter re-doubled his efforts.

The stretch of his jaw, the heavy weight on his tongue, and the burn of his muscles as he stayed balanced and bobbed his head were all familiar. They swept his mind away, letting him fall into the act, his body burning with desire. If it weren't for that fact that one hand was keeping him lifted and balanced and the other was pleasuring Bucky, Peter would have been jerking himself off.

He could wait, though. Bucky losing his mind was well worth it. When his control slipped and big hands dove into Peter’s hair, tugging insistently and directing the speed, Peter moaned his appreciation. He’d considered pausing so he could straddle Bucky’s hips and ride them both to orgasm, but he was a sucker for this kind of thing. A nice guy losing control and using his face? There might be something wrong with him for enjoying it so much.

“Fuck! Pete, yes. I’m gonna—” Bucky groaned and precum filled Peter’s mouth.

Strangely enough, Peter had never minded the taste. In fact, he always felt somehow validated whenever he managed to swallow a guy’s release. He chose not to think too hard on that. Instead, he hollowed his cheeks and hummed low in his throat. His fingers pressed a little more insistently and the ring of muscle gave way just enough for the tip of his finger to slip in. Bucky grunted, abs curling forward and toes digging into the sheets. Peter’s eyes watered as his hair was pulled hard so that it left him choking as the head of Bucky’s cock hit the back of his throat.

Warm, salty bursts of cum followed soon after and Peter consciously swallowed to force down his gag reflex and take what he was given. Bucky didn’t keep that vice grip for long. He let go of Peter’s hair with a soft curse, hands flying to his sides, hips squirming as he tried not to thrust while he rode out his high. Peter pulled back enough to make things easier and gently laved the tip, drinking down all he could.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky groaned. He was breathing like he’d just run a race.

Peter smirked as he pulled off and sat up. “Good?”

“So good. Fuck.” Bucky scrubbed at his face. “Sorry for grabbing your hair and—”

“Don’t apologize. I liked it.” Peter moved up Bucky’s body and brought them into a kiss, sharing the taste of Bucky’s spend. Bucky grunted in surprise when Peter’s tongue first entered his mouth, but he didn’t pull away, eager to thoroughly kiss Peter. “You like that?” Peter asked against Bucky’s lips.

“Yes,” Bucky breathed back, his hands back on Peter’s body, trailing fire with each touch.

Peter reached down and took himself in hand, unable to wait any longer. He moaned and kissed Bucky again. It was fine if they both finished like this now. There was still the rest of the weekend and—

Thick fingers lightly traced along Peter’s entrance, causing him to press back into them and moan. That felt too good with how wound up he was at the moment. His thoughts scattered as he was trapped only in the feeling of their hands driving him crazy. Then, Bucky spoke and cut right through Peter’s haze.

“Sit on my face.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open as he gaped down at Bucky. “What?”

“I always— No, I mean. I want to. I wanna eat you out.”

It was so hard to think through the constant stream of _hell yes_ in his head. “I’m not going to taste good. You’re used to girls.”

“I’ve eaten ass, too,” Bucky said, eyes bright with desire. Maybe he really did want to. “Please?”

“Fuck it,” Peter mumbled and scrambled up Bucky’s body. Calloused hands grabbed his hips, and he let them maneuver him into place. He took hold of the headboard for balance and spread his legs further, moving down until thick fingers pried his cheeks apart and cool air rushed along his hole. “Ohmyfuck.”

Bucky moaned, but it was muffled by Peter’s ass as he pulled it down and went at it. His tongue was so hot and wet, lighting up Peter’s nerves. It had been so long since Peter had experienced this, his prior lovers not being the giving types. Choked noises burst from him as he rocked his hips into the steady movements of Bucky’s tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Peter chanted, hands gripping the headboard tight. The sensation was steadily building to an edge that almost felt like he could tip over it. If he could, he would, but it would likely take too long. Maybe one day he’d beg Bucky to tie him up and eat him out for as long as it took, no matter how much he cried for more.

For now, though, he was too impatient.

One hand released the headboard and flew to his dripping cock. The pressure of his fist felt so good. He moaned aloud at it. One of Bucky’s thumbs slid down to press and rub at Peter’s perineum, ripping a low shout of pleasure from him. He was drowning in this. It felt so good to be the center of attention for a change, with only his release being the end goal.

They should have done this long ago. Well, Peter planned to make up for lost time.

His stomach clenched, pleasure spiking in his groin and sending ripples of heat through his veins. His hand flew as he chased his orgasm and caught it, letting it rip through him with force. He bent forward, forehead pressing into the bed’s headboard as he worked himself through it. His eyes rolled back in his head as he rode it out, lost in the feeling of Bucky’s thrusting, wiggling tongue.

As Peter floated back down into his body, the sensation became almost too much. He squirmed, but Bucky’s grip on his ass cheeks didn’t relent. He whined as it continued, little spasms of pleasure causing him to twitch all over. His hips jerked and his toes curled as he tried to regain enough higher brain function to speak.

“Bucky!” Peter choked out. His plea was met with Bucky creating enough suction to have Peter shouting nonsensically.

“Mmm,” was all Bucky had to say on the matter. He kept going, licking in and out, sucking as hard as he could, caressing the sensitive skin until Peter was a mewling mess, clutching at the headboard with trembling limbs.

At long last, Bucky pulled back for air, and Peter sobbed in relief. His whole body was shaking from overstimulation. His thighs could barely hold him up. Bucky slid out from under Peter’s wobbly legs and turned around, helping Peter to rearrange and sprawl on the bed to recover. Bucky left soothing kisses along Peter’s neck and chest.

“You’re really good at that,” Peter said at last, though his voice still sounded wrecked.

“Mmm.”

Peter’s eyes fluttered open to find Bucky’s blissed-out face hovering over his own. Bucky was propped on one arm, his free hand trailing along Peter’s body or brushing back unruly curls from Peter’s face. It was cute how far gone in his own head he was from servicing. Something to remember.

Something caught Peter’s eye, and he looked up to see Bucky’s hair clumped at weird angles, a glob of cum stuck in the center. Oh, no. He’d ejaculated all over Bucky’s head. The last thing he should have done was laugh, but Peter burst into hysterical giggles, still drunk on endorphins.

Bucky blinked rapidly, obviously confused but still too far gone to think well. “What?”

Peter reached up thumbed at the sticky substance but it only made things worse. He grinned as he held his thumb and forefinger at eye level, showing exactly what was stringing between as he pinched and opened them. “I think we need another shower.”

“Oh.” Bucky hummed once more before dropping down to snuggle into Peter’s chest, not seeming to care too much about his predicament. Peter wrapped those broad shoulders in his arms. “Did you have fun though?” Bucky asked, voice muffled by Peter’s body.

“Are you kidding? That was the best sex I’ve had in years.”

Bucky’s arms squeezed at Peter. “You’re not just saying that?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Bucky was so insecure about the strangest of things. “Well, I’d give you details about how thoroughly pleasured I am, but my brain melted out my ears a while ago. In fact, you’ll have to take over my job at work. I’m utterly useless now. I’ll have to live in bed.”

Live in bed with the single purpose of getting fucked stupid? Now that was a fun fantasy. He wondered how into role playing Bucky was.

“You were amazing,” Bucky replied, and he capped the statement off with a kiss to Peter’s chest.

“Good to know I haven’t lost my skill,” Peter murmured, his eyes drooping.

If they didn’t get up now, they’d end up falling asleep with cum and spit all over them — not to mention the mess left in the living room. That knowledge did nothing to help the heavy lethargy of his limbs. With Bucky still on top of him and his blood still singing with happy chemicals, he was warm and sated. Maybe they could take a nap…

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered.

“For what?” Peter murmured, tendrils of sleep curling around his mind.

“For being you.”

If Peter were more awake, perhaps his chest would have tightened and his eyes would have burned. Perhaps he would have thought back to all that had happened in his life and how much he’d always wanted to hear those words. Perhaps he would have confessed something stupid to Bucky so early in their relationship.

Instead, he smiled and hugged Bucky back as they slipped off into an exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line about choosing roles like “power bottom” is not a dig at fandom culture (though it could be!), it’s a dig on actual gay male culture. It’s surprisingly common for gay men to have a go-to identifier. It doesn’t mean they never deviate. It’s more like a greeting card. It’s fascinating to watch. (This trend happens a lot in kink as well, which is why I’ve seen so much of this in my life. There’s a good amount of crossover between the groups. lol)
> 
> There was initially a plan for the boys to go to comic con, but that didn’t end up happening. I have an idea for it, but I am burned out. This fic became TOO LONG. So maybe I’ll write it as a bonus in the future. Who knows. I’m tired.
> 
> Merry Christmas, GeekMom13!

**Author's Note:**

> http://thatvixenchick.tumblr.com  
> https://twitter.com/The_Vixen13 (nsfw)  
> So by popular request, my cats have their own tumblr now. https://vixen13scats.tumblr.com/
> 
> Follow my journey to a professional pen name here:  
> http://racheljaquis.wordpress.com


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